


Nightmare's reawakening (translation)

by Dragonqueen909



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, BAMF Sephiroth, Friendship, Gen is a pyro like seriously, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Hurt/Comfort, Molly Weasley Bashing, dumbles too, its really bad for his health, protective Sephiroth, really suffer, the Dursley will suffer, voldy should not hurt Harry, you dont touch his loves one like never
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 83,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonqueen909/pseuds/Dragonqueen909
Summary: Chamber of secrets AU. Harry found the entrance to the chamber earlier during the year. After almost having an heart attack when meeting the Basilisk, he realise that she was only lonely and became her friend. She then show him what she was really guarding: A huge pale green crystal, in which slumber a man with long silver hair. (Or in which Harry found a repentant Sephiroth and get himself a big brother/protector. Dumble and Voldy better watch out.) Weasley(Molly/Ginny)/Dumbledore bashing.





	1. Prologue: A long slumber

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Renaissance du Cauchemar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178652) by [Fumseck_73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumseck_73/pseuds/Fumseck_73). 



> Disclaimer: All characters of Final Fantasy VII belong to Square Enix for the game, Tetsuya Nomura, Takeshi Nozue, Yusuke Naora, Yoshinori Kitase and Shinji Hashimoto for Advent Children, Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Cast:
> 
> Writer: Fumseck73
> 
> Beta-reader/translator: Dragonqueen909 (English translation)

 

 The Calamity's Son's slumber had been long. Very long. But time didn't meant anything in his imprisoned crystalline state. Minutes, hours, century… millennials. The ages passed, empires were created and then collapsed. But still, he slumbered.

Sometime, he could vaguely perceived what was happening around him. Many times, his crystal had been discovered. Somes had try to destroy it, sensing the danger he represent, failing every time. Others had want to used his power to destroy or ruled the world. Others yet had exposed him. Always, he was returned underground, the Lifestream moving him elsewhere.

Will he one day found what he was searching for? A way to repent his sins? To show his worth by keeping his promise?

The last time he was found, he felt it. But he hadn't been exposed. The one that found him didn't try to destroy or wake him up either.

His instinct told him that he was placed underground, in a kind of cave. The one that moved him there had build it over time. Hiding him behind a statue and leaving a serpentine guardian to watch over him. To not be awoken too soon, it seems to him.

And the time flowed by. Until he felt a presence.

It was different than all the others he had felt before. The others had been… powerful, in their own way. Often arrogant. Not this one, it was weak next to the others. Almost choking on itself. There was something wrong with the aura, he realized.

Then he realized that it was a child. And at the same time not innocent like one. Its aura was that of having grow up too fast… just like him. One force to passed trials too big for them. To win them… or die trying.

Anger started rumbling in his heart at that realisation, followed by shock when hearing the young child voice. It was almost say like a prayer.

" I only want someone to protect me…"

The whispered word would have been inaudible to normal ears. But he wasn't a normal person. His blood start boiling at hearing those words. Until then, all those that had touched his crystal had only wanted death and destruction. They had wanted to drown the world in fire and blood, but this child only wanted someone to protect them from harm… and that touched a string burrow in the deepest of his being. He knew what it was like, to want someone to protect them from monsters, whether those were humans or not.

If only he could respond to this child plea… he wouldn't let anyone hurt them again until he drew his last breath. They would have to get over his cold dead body.

At this thought, the crystal reacted. The crystalised structure destabilised in a multitude of cracks, before dissipating in millions of pyreflies, returning to the Lifestream. His body floated for a couple of seconds, before falling with one knee to the ground.

Taking a deep breath, he absently noted the smell of humidity and mold. He slowly opened his eyes, vertical slits dilating to catched maximum light. Feline acidic green eyes met the emerald ones of a child, much too thin, that was looking at him with big fearful eyes, half hidden behind a huge snake.

And this is how Sephiroth, the Nightmare, the Calamity's Son, meet Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived.

oOo

Salazar Slytherin wasn't a dark wizard like the wizarding world will come to think of years later. In fact, he hated them with a passion, had even eliminated many of them long before building Hogwarts with Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw.

That's why when he stumble on the crystal holding the Calamity's son, his first reflex was to destroy it. Before hesitating. He knew that history had a bad tendency to distorted fact with the passing of time, the winning side or the government of the time. Could it be that his was distorted too?

After long hours of reflexion, he went to Rowena for advices. Sadly she confirmed that the stories where true. But she also told him that he wasn't always a bad person and that he wanted to repented his sins. Trying to destroy the crystal will only make it appeared elsewhere. Be it in one year or a millennial later. In place of that, she suggested he hide it somewhere where people with nefarious intentions couldn't get to it.

With help from the others founders, he created a secret chamber, only accessible by speaking parseltongue. Even if he though it wasn't necessary, he was preferring to have the less people possible able to find it. For more protections he place a statue of his uncle in front of the room holding the crystal.

Yes, the famous ugly statue had never been depicting Salazar, but his uncle Morfin. It was a private joke between him and the other founders. The others had help created the Legend of the Chamber of secrets. He had also created a Basilisk to protect the chamber and the school in case they were attacked by a big scale army. He didn't hated non-wizards, but he knew that the danger they represent was very real. Educating the children were a priority for the survival of the wizarding world and prevent discovery.

When she was old enough to understand complex things, he explain to her her mission.

_§You understand what I ask of you, Esmeralda?§_ He asked his basilisk that had recently grow well pass 15 meters.

_§Yes.§_  She hissed in response.  _§Protect the crystal and its sleeper from people with bad intentions. But what if one of your descendant learned that it's there and want to see it?§_

_§Only show them if you are absolutely sure that they are not searching to use its power to destroy the world or kill non-wizard-borns.§_ Responded Salazar, while carefully measuring ingredients for a potion.  _§If you see that they want to use your abilities to kill innocents, don't even mention it to them. And if someone speaking the noble snake tongue, but is not one of my descendant, came to see you, don't attack them first. Not before knowing their intentions. With chance you could become friend with them after my death.§_

_§You know I don't like it when you speak of this Sal,§_ Esmeralda hissed sofly, visibly bothered by it, tongue thrusting out to taste the air in agitation.

Salazar sighed softly, lifting his head to look at his basilisk with affection.

_§Esmeralda, you know very well that human, even with magic, are fragile and don't lives long. Unless they go diving in the blackest of magic, we only lives for a time. An I REFUSE to use that kind of magic,ever.§_

_§I know,§_  She hissed sadly.  _§I know. But what if someone not speaking the snake tongue get inside?§_

_§Then study their attitude. Figure out their intention and if they get to see it or not. I trust you on this.§_  He says gently, petting her head.

He knew that she would be alone for a long, long time. But the "only" way, if you can called it that, to reach some kind of immortality, was by making an object called an Horcrux. And it was the blackest magic there was.

Even basilisks were not immortals. Oh, they lived  _long_ , close to 9 centuries in fact. But they too would finally come to die in time. With a little chance, the steps he put in place will let her live longer than others. But the future wasn't set in stone, it was constantly changing. In Parseltongue, he had asked her to sleep for the longest time possible and to only awaken 2 or 3 times each century.

He had left to his children his wand made of snakewood and basilisk horn (given by Esmeralda when they started to grow in) and his locket holding a drawing of his beloved wife. She had die while giving birth to their last child, which too, had die not long after. He never had the heart to remarry and had stay a widower even with many witches wanting to marry THE Slytherin Lord. He had refused them all, staying faithful till the end.

When he finally reach an advanced age for non-wizards, he choose to leave Hogwarts to continue his experiments in potion. He particularly wanted to created a potion to cure werewolves, or, if impossible, give them a way to keep their human mind during the transformation.

With his leaving, the real reason disappeared bits by bits until the only things left of him, where completely distorted facts or those attributed to him by one of his descendants.

And Esmeralda slept, just like he had ordered. Only coming out of her magical sleep to eat or shed her skin. Either in the forest surrounding the castle or in the pipes system specially designed for her.

Her sleep was disturbed for the first time by a descendant of Salazar who wanted to "purge" the school of all muggleborn as they were call this days. She did her best to avoid obeying his orders, just petrifying the majority of his victims. With the exception of a girl named Myrtle Warren that would later be known as "Moaning Myrtle". She came to haunt the bathroom in which she died, adding to the basilisk misery. Who had NEVER wanted to kill a child.

Finally, to her relief, the Black Mage as she called him, she refused to use his name, stopped calling her. For half a century, she was left in peace.

Then to her utter despair, he returned. But not in his own flesh. No, he returned in the darkest form possible. A fragment of soul attached to a diary, possessing an innocent girl to force her to kill again. And she had to follow his order. Because the same magic that allowed her to sleep was also the one that push her to obey a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Unless someone more worthy of her allegiance show up.

What she didn't know, was that this someone was in the process of approaching. And that he would be the one to awaken the person that would allow her to regain her freedom. That is… if he didn't die before that.

oOo

Harry was desperate. Between the teachers staff that (from his point of vue) weren't doing anything and Hermione petrification, he was at the end of his rope. Ron wasn't helping either, trying to convince him to play chess or to do nothing. Except that Harry could not take out of his mind the picture of Hermione lying on the hospital bed, stiff as a board.

Pomfrey had assured him that, in her state, his friend was in no danger, but that didn't change his worrying at the situation. He spent his free time in the infirmary, taking advantage to do his homework in peace. Except for the first day, Ron had not accompanied him again, he was relieved about that in a way.

Ron may had been the first friend he made, but his total lack of table manners and explosive temper was embarrassing him often.

Sighing, Harry lifted his head to looked at his friend. He just couldn't wait for the mandrakes to be ready, so she could be back in top shape. His gaze passed on Hermione before returning to his homework. He froze suddenly, putting down the parchments and studying his friend's right hand. He had to lean forward, but he had confirmation that he had not dreamed, Hermione was holding a sheet of paper in her clenched fist.

_What could be so important that she'll go and tear the page of a book?_  He wondered as he glance back to look if the nurse was still there. He relaxed seeing that she was still in her office, the door ajar to keep an eye on her patients and their few visitors. Cautiously, he moved his chair to hide what he was doing, and went to work. After long minutes of effort, where he believed more than once that he was going to tear the page, he managed to free it.

Smoothing it, he realized he was right, and that it was a page torn from a book of the library, highlighting the gravity of the situation. Indeed, unless it was a question of life or death, Hermione would NEVER have ruined one of her holy book. He turned pale as he read what was written on the piece of paper.

_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and ven omous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it._

Under the text, a word was written in Hermione's handwriting "pipes".

Harry had the impression that somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain.

"That's it," he murmured "that's the explanation. The monster in the chamber is a basilisk, a giant snake! That mysterious voice, that's why I was the only one to hear it, she was speaking Parseltongue."

Harry looked at the beds around him.

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin… Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die  _again_... and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first!"

And there, Harry turned pale realizing the implications. A fucking giant snake was wandering around the school's plumbing! What was he supposed to do? Go see the teachers?

He dismissed this idea almost as quickly as it had come to him. Last time, with Quirrelmort, it had failed miserably. Okay, he thought it was Snape at the time. But the way McGonagall had told him to piss off (politely, but the idea was there), did not really push him to trust his Head of House. And Lockhart was an incompetent. Even Ron had noticed.

But if things went on like this, the school would close. And he would lose the only thing giving him a feeling of home he knew. Privet Drive did not count. For him, even if he had never said it out loud, it was a prison. Not a house. He began to think at full speed. He knew that there was at least one dead student when the chamber was first opened.

A new idea struck him. And if it was Moaning Myrtle? After all, she had died in a bathroom, which she now haunted. Sliding his bag under Hermione's bed as to not be bothered by it, he greeted Madame Pomfrey politely and left the infirmary as soon as possible. He started to run as soon as he thought he was far enough.

He had little plan beyond trying to enter the chamber and reasoning with the snake. He did not even know if it would work, which is why he did not try to alert anyone, including Ron. But if the snake spoke, then maybe, like the boa constrictor from the zoo, he could convince him to stop attacking.

He had to at least try. Breaking in front of the out of order girl's bathroom, he bend over to catch his breath. After a few moment, he straightened up and entered cautiously. For once, the floor was dry.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Harry.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hid den because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a  _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I  _died._ "

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. …" She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry approached it immediately. At least he had been right so far. Now, to open the entryway…

The sink was nothing fancy. He examined it inch by inch, including the pipes underneath. Harry then saw the drawing of a tiny snake engraved on one of the water taps.

"That tap never worked," said Myrtle as he tried to turn it.

_A little cliché_ , Harry thought. After a few seconds, he realized that he probably had to speak in Parseltongue to make the entrance appear. Turning to Myrtle, he gathered his courage before talking to her.

"Myrtle? Can I ask for a favour please?"

The ghost turned dark gray, and he realized she was blushing. He groaned mentally. As if he didn't had enough fangirls already, ghosts had to get into it too!

"Whatever you want, Harry," Myrtle murmured, floating closer to him.

"Are you able to tell me if I spoke English or not?" He asked, making her blink. "This entrance probably only opens with Parseltongue, and I do not know when I speak it. Can you confirm that for me please?"

"Of course."

Harry concentrated. The only time he had managed to speak that language was when facing a real snake. He stared at the little carving, trying to believe it was real.

"Open"

He turned to Myrtle, who shook her head.

"No, you spoke normally," she said.

Harry looked at the snake again, thinking with all his strength that it was alive. When he moved his head from right to left, he had the impression that the snake moved in the candlelight.

_§Open§_

This time it was a strange hissing that came out of his mouth and immediately, the tap began to shine a white glow and turning on itself. A moment later, the sink tipped and disappeared, revealing the entrance to a pipe large enough to allow a man to pass trough. Harry stared at the pipe for a moment and made his decision.

"I'm going. Thank you for your help, Myrtle."

The ghost girl blushes again.

"No problem Harry. Say... if you ever die... would you like to come haunt the bathroom with me?"

The boy stared at her with big, shocked eyes, then, without answering, jumped unhesitatingly into the pipe. He felt as if he was riding down an endless, dark, slimy toboggan. On the way, he saw other pipes going in all directions but none were as wide. Harry was shaken in all directions by the sinuosities of the pipe that was throwing him into unsuspected depths, far below the dungeons.

Then suddenly, the pipe became horizontal again and Harry was thrown on the damp floor of a stone-walled tunnel, just high enough for a grow man to stand up inside.

He straightened cautiously, checking that he was unhurt, and resolved to apologize to Myrtle when he came back… if, however, he came out of there alive. But he had panicked a bit when she asked him that. The Dursley had not really prepared him to interact with girls. He snorted thinking about that. That was the euphemism of the century, that. Apart from preparing him to maintain a house so sterile that it would have been possible to perform surgery, they did not prepare him for anything.

Not for the first time, he began to wish that he had someone to take care and protect him. The Dursleys had done their best to destroy that hope, but they had never been totally successful.

A cracking sound pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up at the ceiling with concern. If he based himself on the distance he had traveled in this pipe, he was probably under the Black Lake right now. The walls covered with slimes testified to the veracity of this theory.

" _Lumos!_ " whispered Harry, making his wand lit up.

He then plunged into the tunnel, wading loudly in the puddles that covered the ground. The tunnel was so dark that he could not see very far. The light generated by his wand make the shadows seemed monstrous.

The tunnel seemed as calm as a tomb. The first weird sound he heard was a loud crunch when Harry stepped on something that turned out to be a rat's skull. He lighted the ground with his wand and than saw that it was littered with bones of small animals. Trying not to think of the state in which he might end up if he failed, Harry resumed his walk. He finally stopped when the tunnel formed a corner, and swallowed.

He could see a shape just behind the corner, and for the first time since he had decided to go down, his courage flickered. Harry took a deep breath, then, knees shaking, moved cautiously. Slowly, eyes barely opened, he stepped forward, lifting his wand. The glow that shone at its end lit up the gigantic, vivid green shedded skin of a snake. The empty skin was rolled up on itself across the tunnel. The relief he felt when he realized that it was just a molted skin almost made his legs go limp, but he recovered quickly.

Gryffindors were supposed to embody courage, shit! However, the sheer size of the dead skin was terrifying. At the time the Basilisk had moulted, it must already exceed 20 meters. Harry did not even dare to imagine how big it was now.

Breathing deeply to regain his composure (as much as possible in these circumstances), and keep going into the long minutes of silent walking (if we did not count the crunches of bones on the ground), the tunnel never stopped turning, Harry felt nervous. He wanted to see the end of the tunnel, but at the same time he dreaded what he might discover. Finally, after a last curve, Harry found himself in front of a wall on which were engraved two entwined snakes. Large sparkling emeralds were set in place of the eyes.

Harry approached, his throat dry. He had no trouble imagining that these snakes were real: their eyes shone with such vivacity that they seemed alive.

He guessed what he had to do. He cleared his throat and the gleam of emerald eyes seemed to quiver.

_§Open,§_ he hissed hoarsely.

The two snakes parted at once: the two sides of the wall on which they were engraved had just slide aside in silence. Moments later, they had completely disappeared, leaving the way open.

Harry, trembling fiercely, crossed the opening. He had only one desire, to piss himself in terror. But he had come this far. No question to give up now.

oOo

He was at the entrance of a long dimly lit room. Huge stone pillars, around which were carved curled snakes, supporting a ceiling drowned in darkness and casting their black shadows in a strange and greenish atmosphere.

Heart pounding, Harry stopped, his ear tense in the frozen silence. Was the Basilisk lurking in the shadow of a pillar?

He lifted his wand and walked among the columns, each step echoing through the dark walls. He kept his eyelids barely opened, ready to close them at the slightest warning. On several occasions he thought he saw one of the stone snakes move, whose hollow eyes seemed to follow each of his movements.

When he reached the last two pillars, he found himself facing a statue leaning against the back wall, which was the same height as the Chamber.

Harry had to stretch out his neck to see the head of the statue: it was representing a wizard with a long thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of his robes where two huge greyish feet rested on the smooth floor.

He was alone in the cave. No trace of the basilisk. And now? Clearing his throat, he called out with hesitation.

_§Hello?§_

_§Oh,a two-legged,§_ said a voice to his left, making him jump. _§What are you doing here, snakeling?§_

Harry thought he was going to have an heart attack, and even more so when he turned his head in the direction of the voice. He found himself almost face to face with a gigantic snake, whose slightly veiled golden eyes was staring at him. He took several seconds to realize that the reason he was not dead was that the Basilisk had translucent eyelids, so as not to kill with a glance. If he knew they existed, it was thanks to Hedwig. Birds of prey had this kind of transparent eyelids to protect their eyes when they were hunting. He had also seen this information in a book at the local library before leaving for Hogwarts his first year.

_§I'm sorry, little snakeling,§_  softly said the giant snake before him.  _§I didn't meant to scare you.§_

Harry forced himself to calm his distraught heart, which took him a long time. For the moment, everything was going much better than he had feared, given what he had heard her say in the corridors. He was even surprised that she was so polite.

Her head was on the floor, so as not to frighten him more, which would have been difficult. After all, with more than 60 meters long, she was quite imposing. At least she made an effort to put him at ease. And there, his Gryffindor tendency to charge (or, in this case, to speak) without thinking manifested itself. It was a wonder how Malfoy had not finished in his house, since he had more the qualities of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin.

_§You're huge… not to offend you,§_  he added hurriedly.

Obviously, the stress had caused him to say the first thing that went through his head, and he tensed, hoping she would not get angry. He got an amused laugh in response, the Basilisk raising her head slightly.

_§I'm not, snakeling. I would even dare to say that a lot of things must seem enormous to you. And, after all, size is a matter of pride for a snake, and even more so for a basilisk. Because we never really stop growing, the bigger we are, the older we are and therefore respectable, according to Sal.§_

_§Sal?§_ Harry asked, puzzled.

_§Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of the school. A potions expert, and also the first to teach how to defend yourself against Dark Wizards, from what he told me. He liked to talk about what he was doing, you know,§_  she added sadly, as if she missed him.

Harry blinked, surprised. What she was explaining to him totally contradicted what he had learned in  _Hogwarts: A History_. On one hand, it only half surprised him, considering the time that had passed since the death of the Founders. On the other, it made him want to know more.

Then he sat on the ground, on the driest place he could find, and spoke with Esmeralda, who took great pleasure in discussing with him. She taught him so much about the beginnings of the school, that he did not even see the time pass. She was patient and answered all of his questions, though he could see that some of the answers saddened her, especially when it touched Salazar, who was, quite literally her father. Harry learned more about him than about all the other founders, and the vast majority of myths about him took more than a hit. The only real things about him, according to Esmeralda, were the fact that he was a Parselmouth and a Potions Master. And according to her, when he told her about Snape and Malfoy, the first would have been fired with losses and disgrace years ago if Salazar had still been of this world, his lack of professionalism and his bias towards Gryffindor and Slytherin more than enough to justify his dismissal. As for Malfoy, his bigotry would have been enough for warnings from the first day, or even his expulsion and the loss of his magic.

And by Merlin, Harry had been more than surprised to know that Salazar was more considered a half-blood by today's standards than as a pureblood. Indeed, his own mother was Muggle-born, and his father a Muggle, thought of noble birth. And his wife had been Muggleborn too. Harry was saddened to learn that she had died in childbirth, and that the baby himself had not survived. He also learned that Salazar had never remarried, and his respect for the man went up a notch.

In the end, Salazar Slytherin had been an ordinary man, but nobler than many others of the same era. The biggest surprise was knowing that Slytherin was originally thought of as the house of the Muggleborn at Hogwarts, and that it had housed more than the other three combined at the time. The trend had slowly reversed with time, Sortings and the rise of purebloods. The "Pure-Blood Doctrine" was also something that dated back to a very short time, according to Esmeralda's point of view. Salazar would have immediately made it a point of honor to crush this doctrine, which he would certainly have found absurd.

Strangely, Harry had finally felt comfortable enough to start talking about his life. He could not even tell how the conversation had drifted on the subject. After Esméralda's remark about his size and his thinness maybe? And he had cracked. He had poured everything he had on his heart, all that his "loving family" had done to him. Blows, lack of food, physical and psychological abuse, "the bedroom" under the stairs, a simple broom closet, absolutely everything. Part of him was relieved to unpack everything, mainly because he knew she could not talk to anyone about it, and the experience had been… cathartic. He had finished in tears, but strangely relieved.

Esmeralda was furious to hear what they had done to him. No child should have to suffer that! And why had no one intervened? Did they not see? Well, even though she could not kill them herself (they were too far away for that), she could do something for Harry.

The mouth of the statue was only one of the two entrances to the secret room, solely for her use. There was another right next to the statue, but Tom Riddle, later known as Voldemort, had never known about it. He had never been worthy of it. If she had shown him the crystal, he would certainly have tried to wake his sleeper. And the crystal would have been gone again, disappearing for an indefinite period, to reappear randomly in the world. With a little luck, he could help the poor child.

_§Follow me, snakeling,§_  she hissed.  _§I want to show you something.§_

Harry, curious, got up. He said to himself briefly that his curiosity would certainly end up causing him some problems one day, but for the moment Esmeralda had been polite and kind. When he had raised the subject, she had told him that she had never wanted to attack the children of the school, but that a Black Mage (her own words) had forced her to do so. And she was sorry for Myrtle's death. She had never wanted to kill her, but when the Black Mage pulled her out of her sleep, he ordered her not to use her protective eyelids, which filtered her deadly gaze, making her harmless while allowing her to see.

Stopping next to the right foot of the statue, Esmeralda hissed  _§The Great Nightmare slumber§,_  sliding a portion of the wall large enough to grant passage. Harry jumped in surprise, and could not help but ask why.

_§There is another entrance,§_ she explained,  _§but it's in the statue's mouth, and I doubt you want to climb up onto my head,§_  she chuckled.  _§Sal used this entry, and there is also his private potions lab, as well as a small personal library. I have never been able to read the books, of course, but they are there. His journals are even there somewhere, I believe.§_

Harry made a nervous laugh as he heard that. Actually, said like that…

_§And for the password?§_  He asked, curious.

_§Come, and you'll understand,§_  she said softly, waving her head for him to advance.

Harry followed her. He had decided that, to the point where he was, a "monstrous" magical animal was more trustworthy than most humans he knew. At least she had treated him like a normal person, not like The-Boy-Who-Lived. Merlin, how he hated that title. He was pretty sure it was his mother who had done something to protect him, but since she was Muggle-born…

His train of thought came to an abrupt end when his gaze fell on the hidden room. He could see two doors on the sides, probably leading to the famous lab and library, but what really caught his attention was the huge, pale green crystal in the back of the room. Inside, like an insect in amber, was an adult man with long silver hair that seems to reach to his knees. The crystal was easily 5 to 6 meters high, and 2 to 3 meters wide. The man was about in the middle, and seemed almost to be sleeping.

Harry wondered briefly if he was still alive, before remembering the password. After all, Esmeralda had spoken of slumber, not death. As if hypnotized, he approached slowly, barely paying attention to Esmeralda who followed him closely, but at a respectful distance all the same. He finally stopped in front of the crystal, raising his head to look at the stranger inside.

Harry did not really understand why she had mentioned Nightmare (he had felt the capital letter in the word) in the password. He did not look so nightmarish to him. Pretty tall (Harry thought him at least 1m80), slim but muscular from what he could distinguish, he was dressed in a trench coat and black pants, without a t-shirt, revealing his torso, on which crossed two strips. Lighter shoulder pads (impossible to define the color with certainty because of the crystal) were on each of his shoulders, and he wondered what they were for.

All in all, he was pretty impressive, Harry found. But he did not look that dangerous to the child. A strange feeling began to swell in him. He was still strung up with his earlier revelations, and his mind was confused. Why had Esmeralda shown him this man? No adult had ever helped him. Yet, looking at the stranger, he had a weird feeling. His face was peaceful, yet there was a hint of sadness. Waiting almost. As if he was waiting for something.

Slowly, Harry raised his hand, and gently placed it on the smooth surface of the crystal. To his astonishment, he was almost lukewarm. Loneliness fell on him, almost suffocating, and he rested his forehead on the crystal, closing his eyes, tears streaming down his eyelids.

"I only want someone to protect me…" he whispered, almost like a prayer.

It was one of the desires buried in the depths of his heart, one the Dursleys had tried to destroy, never succeeding, second to finding a family that would come to save him.

_Crack!_

Harry jumped in surprise at the sound, stepping back with a wide, surprised look. His gaze fell on a crack at the level where he had put his forehead. The latter grew, multiplying, covering the crystal in a real spider-like web. He retreated until he reached Esmeralda, surprised and frightened.

It was not his words that caused that, right?

Just when he thought the crystal would fall to pieces on the floor, it dissipated, disappearing into a million bright pyreflies, pale green like the crystal, leaving him speechless. His gaze was attracted by the man, who floated in the air, as if gravity had not yet taken hold of him. His long silver hair floated around him, as if supported by the pyreflies, which dissipated almost simultaneously, letting him fall to the ground, where he landed one knee on the ground.

Harry stood frozen in amazement and worry, a little comforted by the fact that Esmeralda had moved slightly to get closer to him, half concealing him with her head. Harry felt a slight chill of apprehension when his vis-à-vis took a long breath, as if he had held his breath for an eternity, before slowly opening his eyelids, eyes an acid green, with verticals pupils coming to be fixed in his own emerald green similar to that of the Killing Curse.

And this is how Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, met Sephiroth, the Nightmare, the Calamity's son.

_To be continued..._


	2. Confrontation with Riddle

The silence stretched. None of the people present said a word, whether it was the two humans or the giant snake. Harry did not even dare to move, pinned to the spot by the feline gaze of his opponent. However, despite the fact that he was impressive because of his appearance, he didn’t look hostile. More intrigued and a little puzzled. His head slightly tilted to the side made him think vaguely of a cat who would evaluate something he did not know.

 Finally, he moved, standing up again with the grace of a predator. Harry swallowed with apprehension. The man did not look hostile, but he was a stranger, and unless he was mistaken, an experienced warrior. He had barely two years of magical instruction under his belt, and again. Lockhart had not taught them anything useful.

 Esmeralda had not moved from her position beside him, bringing him some comfort. The whole situation gave him the impression of having entered the 4th dimension, but he had this impression since he had entered the magical world anyway. The man's lips twitched, forming a slight amused smile.

 “You can approach, you know. I won't bite.”

 Harry blinked in surprise as he heard it. His deep voice was calm, like the rest of his appearance, and contained a quiet assurance. With hesitation, he moved a little away from Esmeralda.

 “Who are you?” He asked shyly. “Esmeralda called you “The Nightmare”. Why?”

 His interlocutor sighed softly.

 “I see that my story has not been completely forgotten, even if, obviously, it is probably more than incomplete. My name is Sephiroth.”

 “Sephiroth?” Harry repeated. “It sounds like a Bible name, no? I'm Harry.”

 Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, visibly perplexed.

 “I couldn’t tell you, I have never been interested in religion. I really only believe in Minerva, the Goddess.”

 It was Harry's turn to blink his eyes.

 “Minerva? Like Professor McGonagall?”

 Sephiroth looked amused.

 “I do not know, but I doubt it's the same person. Minerva is the consciousness of the Lifestream. That's where the souls come from, and where they return after their death.”

 “How do you know that?” Harry asked curiously, approaching a little more.

 "It's a long story," he sighed. “A very long story. I hope you have time to spare?”

 “It's Saturday,” Harry replied. “I've got time.”

 So Sephiroth invited Harry to sit on the floor, and told him his story. How he grew up in a lab, experienced on since before his birth. How he had been trained in the art of war as soon as he knew how to walk. How he had been thrown, almost literally on the battlefield at age twelve, bombarded general far too young. How he had met the two people who had become his only friends. How their friendship had collapsed when Genesis had been injured in a training match, which caused the collapse of his cells, called Degradation, which had slowly drove him insane, driving him to desert with Angeal. How Angeal had died, having forced his apprentice, Zack, to kill him. What had happened in Nibelheim, and which had earned him his name of Nightmare. How he had tried to destroy the world under the influence of Jenova. How he had died three times and pulled out of the Lifestream against its will.

 And Harry had remained motionless, listening almost religiously to Sephiroth's words. Even Esmeralda had remained silent to listen to him. He asked shyly who Jenova was, a little intimidated by the venom with which Sephiroth had pronounced the name.

 So, Sephiroth explained. How he was injected with her cells even before he was born, while still in his mother's womb, just like Angeal and Genesis, and the difference between the cells. Live for him, but dead for them, which caused the problems he had talked about. He also explained how his defenses had suffered from the desertion of Genesis, then Angeal, and the death of the latter. How he had blocked Jenova's voice, before he suffered a nervous collapse in Nibelheim, and set the village ablaze under her control. He explained how Jenova had taken control of his mind, taking advantage of the fact that he had been told that she was his mother. How Cloud could kill him, taking advantage of the fact that he had completely lowered his guard. How his mind had shattered when Cloud had managed to throw him to the bottom of the Reactor, directly in the Lifestream. How Jenova had slowly restored him over the five years that followed, before he snatched control... or at least, had thought to do it. He had recovered a semblance of control, yes, but not as much as he had thought at the time.

 He also spoke of The Meteor. He briefly explained what Materia was, and especially the Black Materia. He explained it’s role, a last resort for the Planet, a kind of suicide device, to shorten it’s suffering. He also spoke of Weapons, creatures similar to an immune system around the globe, created to counter the Calamity. He explained how Cloud had killed him for the second time with his friends.

 “No matter your martial prowess,” he said softly, “an eight-to-one fight will ALWAYS be unbalanced and to your detriment. Plus, they had an another advantage over me.”

 “What was it?” The child asked softly.

 “They did not fight to destroy the world, but to protect it. And they did not give up before defeating me and succeeding in protecting it. They put all their heart into the battle.”

 He then talked about Hojo cloning him. Geostigmas, and what his Remnants had done to bring him back. His last fight against Cloud, where Jenova had _finally_ left him in peace after this last defeat. His soul had finally become nearly complete, and he had been horrified by his actions. He had _never_ wanted to do that. It was not him.

 But Cloud and his friends would never have listened to him. Not that he blamed them, frankly. After what he had done... He still remembered his meeting with Elfé. She had asked him if he had a reason to fight. At the time, he did not know what to answer.

 Then Minerva had made him an offer, a new life in another world, and he had accepted. Angeal and Genesis had respectively been brought back to life and out of their sleep, and for a time he had been… happy, yes. He had learned to live. And then everything had been torn from him again. With someone who had become dear to them all.

 And he went back to Gaia. Where he had been sealed in a crystal made of Condensed Lifestream, like Materia, at his own request. Waiting one day to be able to repent his crimes.

 And Sephiroth finally shut up. Relieved to have finished with his story. Knowing that the legends about him would have been far from the truth, he had preferred to tell Harry everything so that he knew the truth. That way, if someone tried to get him away from him by telling him a distorted version, he would be able to make his own opinion.

 “Now that I told you my story,” said Sephiroth softly, “it's your turn to do the same.”

 Harry flinched.

 “Really?” He asked shyly. “Are you sure?”

 He nodded.

 “I told you my story, it's up to you to do the same. I would not judge you, if that's what worries you.”

 The boy hesitated. He recognized that his interlocutor was right, but he could not help being ashamed. He was supposed to be the great hero of the wizarding world, but he could not even protect himself from a overweight muggle! Yet, Sephiroth's gaze spoke the truth. He would clearly not judge him, and he waited patiently for Harry to decide to speak.

 Then, slowly, in a choppy way, he began to tell his life. Unknowingly minimizing what the Dursleys had done to him, as he had done in telling Esmeralda. He spoke of the cupboard under the stairs, in which he had slept until he received his first letter for Hogwarts. The beatings, the lack of food, the psychological abuse, the fact that he had only knew his name on entering school, thinking until then that his name was Freak or Boy. How Marge enjoyed sending Ripper, her bulldog, to attack him. Sometimes trapping him at the top of a tree for hours. And the blows he received being finally allowed to go down, because he could not prepare dinner.

 Sephiroth listened to him practically without saying a word, only interrupting him from time to time to ask for details on this and that. Harry could not see it, but Sephiroth struggled to keep his calm. He had only one desire, to find these… things (they did not even deserve the title of animals, let alone humans) and teach them _why_ he was called The Nightmare. The only things that held him back were the fact that Harry had seen enough horrors as it is, and that he did not know where they lived.

 Harry also explained what had apparently happened to his parents. That they had been murdered by a Dark Lord, Voldemort. How everyone was too terrified to just pronounce his name, and how he would have apparently defeated him at 15 months old. Sephiroth could not help but scoff at that.

 “Wizards are idiots,” he remarked in response to Harry's perplexed look.

 “Why do you say that?”

 “Simple logic. At fifteen months old, a child simply _doesn’t_ have the cognitive abilities to understand or control his magic, let alone death. I think it's your mother who did something to protect you.”

 Harry nodded shyly.

 “I think so too.”

 Finally, he touched the two years that had just passed. What had happened during the first, with Fluffy the Cerberus, Quirrelmort, the Philosopher's Stone, etc. Sephiroth had serious suspicions about the Headmaster on hearing this. It stank the manipulations full nose. Three 11-year-olds, able to pass these tests? There was something particularly suspicious in this story. He had to do himself a lot of violence not to explode when Harry told him what had happened in the summer between the two years.

  _They had tried to kill him by starving him, shit!_ He was pretty sure that with another month of this diet, Hedwig would have been dead for a long time, and Harry would not have held out until school started. And as for this year... Harry had been treated like an outcast simply because he could talk to snakes. There was nothing evil in there! It's not because some people were bad when they spoke that language that ALL who spoke it were bad!

 As for the petrifactions... Harry explained that Esmeralda had been forced to attack the Muggleborn children of the school, when she _did not_ want to. It was not her role. He was surprised to understand what Esmeralda was saying in confirmation, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with a touch of annoyance. Apparently, besides keeping him up to date regarding the spoken/written language of the area, the Lifestream had _also_ offered Parseltongue. Another black mark against him, as if he needed that. He contemplated a moment to change his appearance when leaving the Chamber of Secrets, as Harry had told him it was called, before giving up. In any case, his identity would be quickly known.

 Esmeralda suddenly looked up, looking towards the main room, behind her and Harry.

  _§_ _HE is here,§_ she hissed, her tone a mixture of disgust and anger.

 So like that, the soul fragment of the Black Mage was here. In this case, he would take care of him. He stood up elegantly, catching the attention of a worried Harry.

 “Since he is here, let's go and welcome him decently, right?” He asked Harry, offering him a reassuring smile. “Do not worry, I will not let him do more damage.”

 “And the girl he possessed?” Tried Harry.

 “If it's not too late for her, of course I'll save her,” Sephiroth said firmly, moving toward the door that Harry and Esmeralda had used.

 She explained that the password was only used to enter, but that it would be enough to touch the door from the inside to go out. He did as she said, and saw the portion of the wall slide to reveal the huge cavern. Harry just behind him, he went out, ready to call Masamune if necessary.

 His eyes fell on a redhead girl, who must have been about the same age as Harry, and the latter letting out a "Ginny!” showed that he knew her. The boy ran to the girl as he scanned the place. Nobody yet, for now. She was lying at the feet of the statue, apparently unconscious. He could see she was still alive, but her condition was clearly critical.

 Harry was shaking her, trying desperately to wake her up, but her head bobbed to and fro like a rag doll.

 “Don’t bother, she won’t wake,” said a soft voice.

oOo

Albus "too many names" Dumbledore did not understand what was happening. About an hour earlier, an alarm had echoed in the school as he was coming down to dinner. The shrill sound had sounded everywhere, and it was impossible to stop it. He had come across frantic students, especially Muggleborns, and many Purebloods who did not understand what was going on.

 The teachers were not very helpful either, none knew what was going on. He had ordered that all students be escorted back to their common rooms, and a heads count performed. After that, he went back to his office, where he found the Sorting Hat giving a dressing-down to the portraits of former headmasters.

 “... And if the moron who removed the portraits of the Founders had not done this stupidity, you would know what is happening!”

 “The ideas they proposed were absurd!” Protested one of them. “And then, it is impossible that Salazar Slytherin was the advocate of the Muggleborns! _Everyone_ knows he was a Pureblood! And that he despised the Muggleborns, who are inferior to the Purebloods! It could NOT be his portrait!”

 “Blah, blah, blah!” Exclaimed the Sorting Hat sarcastically. “Are you going to tell me that I know less than you about the Founders? The ones who created me? Then I'm an old baseball cap in this case!”

 “What is going on here?” Albus asked in an authoritarian tone, a little shocked from the language of the old hat.

 Phineas Black pointed at the Sorting Hat from inside his portrait.

 “This old Sorting Hat decided not to explain why he said “Ooops, it looks like the Nightmare is awake” while chuckling when the alarm started.”

 Albus blinked in surprise, before frowning pensively, searching in his memories via Occlumency. Finally, he found a reference. The ancient Legend of the Meteor. He looked at the Sorting Hat, frowning.

 “Clarence, the Nightmare is a legend. There is no proof that he exists.”

 The Sorting Hat burst out laughing at that.

 “A legend? Really? And what are dragons, unicorns, and sphinxes for Muggleborns, Albus? Until they enter the wizarding world, they are just myths too.”

 Albus turned pale when he heard that. All the legends that wizards passed down from generation to generation about the Nightmare insisted on its power and dangerousness. If he was really as powerful and dangerous as the stories said, then they had a huge problem on their hands. After all... he had almost destroyed the world and he would have succeeded without a group of heroes called Avalanche.

 And if he really woke up... that would mean that he had slept for thousands of thousands of years. Except that given the stories about his power, he doubted it had dulled his strength. Which meant that they had one of the most powerful Dark Wizards that existed walking free right now.

 “Headmaster, the teachers are here!” Exclaimed the portrait of a young woman, running into the landscape hanging next to the door.

 Immediately, the portraits of the former headmasters calmed down and settled in their frames, pretending to sleep. Albus shook himself mentally, and sat down at his desk, turning to the hat.

 “Clarence, there wouldn’t be a way to stop this alarm?”

 “Nope,” cheerfully replied the Hat. “It will stop on its own when the danger is over. And, just for your information, the Nightmare is not the most dangerous thing currently inside the school. And you know what I'm talking about,” he added more seriously, managing to give the impression of a dark look despite his lack of eyes. “So why don’t you do anything?”

 Albus chose not to answer. He had reason to do nothing when he was warned of the presence of the diary. He had the hope that Harry would manage to destroy it, but without himself surviving the encounter.

 At least the alarm was not deafening. It was annoying, but bearable. The staff members entered the office one after the other, sitting on the chairs he had created in anticipation of that. Apart from Lockhart, who wore his usual silly smile, everyone looked serious, the worst being Minerva, who looked like she would collapsed.

 “We have a problem Albus,” she said in a dark voice. “All students are present and accounted for, with the exception of two: Miss Weasley and Mister Potter.”

 Albus blinked in surprise. He was not surprised by the disappearance of the young Weasley, knowing that it was she who was in possession of the cursed diary. But Harry?

 “Harry?” He asked with surprise. “Do you have any details, Minerva?”

 “Mister Potter had gone to visit Miss Granger, who, as you know, is still petrified in the infirmary. Poppy saw him for the last time around 11am this morning, before he went out, leaving his bag under Miss Granger's bed. Since then, no one has seen him in the Gryffindor Common Room, or even the rest of the school,” she reported, her lips pursed with worry. “As for Miss Weasley, a message was painted on the wall, just below the previous one: _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._ ”

 Albus pursed his lips. Miss Weasley's death was an inevitable sacrifice. Even if Harry managed to destroy the Horcrux, Miss Weasley must have been on the verge of death, her vital force almost entirely drained. He would have to use Molly's carefully chosen compulsions, and perhaps stronger potions of loyalties, so that she does not question his plan. He had nothing against the plan to enslave Harry with love potions targeted on Ginevra, but in the end, it was not essential. In any case, the child was so obsessed with Harry that he would not have been surprised to know that Molly was giving her some too. The hair that had been collected from Harry over the years had been useful, but if that plan fell through, it was not a big deal. After all, it was for the Greater good.

 Nobody paid attention to Fawkes' sad trill on his pole, thinking it was connected with the news that Minerva had just brought. In reality, it was the thoughts that agitated Albus' mind that were sadening the mythical bird. If only he could leave... but he was chained. Giving the illusion that Albus was on the Good side. While it had nothing to do with it.

 If only someone could destroy the chains that bound him to Albus… he would abandon him without hesitating for a moment.

 oOo

 “Don’t bother, she won’t wake,” suddenly said a soft voice.

 Harry jumped and turned, still on his knees.

 A tall young man with black hair, was watching him, leaning against a pillar. His outlines were strangely unclear, as if Harry had looked through a frosted window. But he was perfectly recognizable.

 “Tom...Tom Riddle!”

 Riddle nodded without looking away from Harry.

 “What d’you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry said desperately. “She’s not … she’s not...?”

 “She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.”

 Harry stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

 “Are you a ghost?” Harry said uncertainly.

 “A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

 He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. For a second, Harry wondered how it had got there, but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

 “You’ve got to help me, Tom,” Harry said, raising Ginny’s head again. “We’ve got to get her out of here.”

 “Don’t bother, no one can help her,” said Riddle carelessly.

 “Why?” Harry asked, looking at him with big eyes.

 Riddle had paid no attention to Sephiroth for the moment, who was content to watch the scene carefully. He could see the magic threads around him, all dark and clearly showing their bad and evil intentions. He was still trying to understand how they interacted with each other, and especially what they were doing. Some were attached to the diary, others clung to the girl, and others to the shadow of the teenager named Riddle. He had a bad feeling about this whole thing.

 Sephiroth quietly activated his Scan Materia, allowing him to see the girl's condition. And he saw that her life force was dangerously and abnormally low.

 “What d’you mean?” Harry added after a few seconds.

 “I waited a long time for this moment, Harry Potter,” said Riddle. “The moment to see you, to talk to you.”

 “Listen,” said Harry, losing patience, “I think you do not understand the situation very well. We are in the Chamber of Secrets. We'll talk later, when we're out of here.”

 "No, we're going to talk now," Riddle replied, still smiling broadly.

 Harry watched carefully. He did not understand how Riddle could be so calm considering their situation. Esmeralda might not be mean, not naturally, but anyone would be worried about being here.

 “What happened to Ginny?” he asked slowly.

 “Well, that’s an interesting question,” said Riddle pleasantly. “And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.”

 “What are you talking about?” said Harry.

 “The diary,” said Riddle. “ _My_ diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes, how her brothers _tease_ her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how” Riddle’s eyes glinted “how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would _ever_ like her…”

 All the while, Riddle had not looked away from Harry. There was almost greed in his eyes. Harry swallowed. Riddle was beginning to seriously worry him. The only reason he did not panic was Sephiroth's presence behind him.

 “It’s very boring _,_ having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. _No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom._ she wrote to me _I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to_ _confide in…_ _It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…”_

 Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck.

 “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of _my_ secrets, to start pouring a little of _my_ soul back into _her_ …”

 “What d’you mean?” said Harry, whose mouth had gone very dry.

 “Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?” said Riddle softly. “Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat.”

 “No,” Harry whispered.

 “Yes,” said Riddle, calmly. “Of course, she didn’t _know_ what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries … far more interesting, they became. … _Dear Tom_ _,_ ” he recited, watching Harry’s horrified face, “ _I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me. …_ _There was another attack today_ _and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what_ _am I going to do? I think I’m going mad. … I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”_

 Harry clenched his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

 “It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” said Riddle. “But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that’s where _you_ came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you_ _,_ the very person I was most anxious to meet.”

 “And why did you want to meet me?” Harry asked.

 He felt himself tremble with fury and he had trouble speaking in an equal voice.

 “Ginny told me about you, Harry,” Riddle replied. “She did not hide anything from your fascinating story.”

 His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead, and their expression grew hungrier.

 “I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust.”

 “Hagrid’s my friend,” said Harry, his voice now shaking. “And you framed him, didn’t you? I thought you made a mistake, but...”

 Riddle burst out laughing again.

 “It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so _brave_ _,_ school prefect, model student… on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls … but I admit, even _I_ was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought _someone_ must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken _me_ five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance … as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.”

 “I bet Dumbledore saw right through you,” said Harry, his teeth gritted.

 “Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled,” said Riddle carelessly. “I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.”

 “Well, you haven’t finished it,” said Harry triumphantly. “No one’s died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be alright again.”

 “Haven’t I already told you,” said Riddle quietly, “that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been… _you._ ”

 Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

 “Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery, particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue. So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became _very_ boring. But there isn’t much life left in her. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. Even if I don’t understand how you got here before us. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.”

 “Like what?” Harry spat, fists still clenched.

 “Well,” said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, “how is it that _you_ , a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

 There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

 “Why do you care how I escaped?” said Harry slowly. “Voldemort was after your time.”

 “Voldemort,” said Riddle softly, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter.”

 He took Ginny's wand out of his pocket and wrote in the air in glittering letters.

 TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE 

Then he made a movement with the wand and the letters of his name were assembled in a different order. Now it reads:

 I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

 “You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?No, Harry, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

 Harry felt like his brain was numb. Bewildered, he was gazing at Riddle, the orphan who had become the murderer of his parents and many others…

 After a long time, Sephiroth spoke, drawing attention to him.

 “As far as I can see, even at sixteen, you were already an idiot and a coward, and that has not visibly steadied with the years,” Sephiroth said calmly, advancing quietly with the grace of a predator, coming to place himself next to Harry and Ginny.

 Arms crossed over his chest, he stared at Riddle/Voldemort with a scornful look. The latter stared at him arrogantly.

 “A coward?” He asked in a dangerous tone.

 “A coward,” Sephiroth confirmed, still calm. “Your name proves it. Voldemort, “Flight from Death” in English,” he translated calmly. “You are so afraid of death that you have deliberately fractured your soul. And most importantly, you are able to pick on a baby who can not defend himself. As for your defeat, I doubt that it was due to Harry, but rather to his mother. And if you buy the opposite, you're an idiot.”

 “And what do you know?” Riddle hissed angrily.

 “I've already died three times,” Sephiroth remarked calmly. “And believe me, from experience, death is not so terrible compared to what I have already experienced.”

 “There is nothing worse than death!” Riddle growled.

 “Really?” Sephiroth asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know what you are talking about? I do. Have you ever been immersed in pure Mako? Believe me, you have the impression of being immersed in a bath of acid, which would not destroy your body, and therefore would not end your suffering. You've already had your arm broken repeatedly, to see how long it would take to get together again? Without anesthesia of course, because that would distort the results. Or have you had your body opened with a scalpel, to see the effect that certain substances would have on your internal organs? Take off a piece of your gut, to see how long it would take to recover? In comparison, death is a _relief_.”

 Harry looked at him with wide eyes, horrified by what he had been through. When he had told his story, Sephiroth had only skimmed over what had been done to him, without going into details. Harry understood better now why he had finally lose it in the past, if what he had just said was representative of what he had experienced.

 Riddle stared at him with frowning brow.

 “You died three times, you say? In this case, death must not be that good,” he taunted, “... if you escaped several times.”

 Sephiroth snorted, his gaze gazing at Riddle scornfully.

 “If it had only been for me, I would not have come back to life. But as my soul could not re-enter the Lifestream, fractured as it was, I could not resist the monster who had taken control of my actions. And the fact that my soul was in pieces was not my fault. And, before you make any wrong assumptions, no, I did not use any rituals to get back to life.”

 The confusion appeared on Riddle's face. Then he asked a question he had not asked until then.

 “WHO are you exactly? How could you come back to life three times, if you did not use any obscure ritual?”

 Sephiroth laughed softly, and Harry felt an icy chill run down his back. There was something scary in that laugh, and he was reassured to know that Sephiroth was on his side, and not Riddle's. The look he was glaring at Riddle was cold, hard, and implacable. Yes, Harry was _very_ glad he was not his enemy…

 “Who I am? Do you really need to ask the question? So you have not heard of me, in the legends told by the wizards? Yet, it is certainly one of the oldest and most famous.”

 Riddle frowned, then his eyes widened in amazement.

 “Don’t tell me that… you are THE Nightmare?”

 “More exactly, my name is Sephiroth,” said the latter carelessly. “But yes, this is one of my titles.”

 Riddle burst out again in that icy and disturbing laugh, and Harry shivered. Definitely, he scared him. He was at least relieved to know that Sephiroth was on his side, and would certainly refuse to help Riddle.

 “Oh, it's so perfect Harry Potter! The famous Nightmare, the one who almost destroyed the world, is back! These lower muggles have no chance against you! You will be able to please yourself so much by destroying and dominating them!”

 Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, before raising his middle finger towards Riddle sarcastically.

 “Sit on it and spin, as someone who was dear to me would have said.”

 Riddle immediately stopped laughing, looking shocked.

 “Sorry?” He asked in a dangerous tone. “You're telling me what, you're a fucking fag?”

 Harry, on the side, was watching the conversation like a tennis match. If the situation had not been so dire, he would have burst out laughing at Tom's face when Sephiroth said that. The latter looked almost amused.

 “Technically speaking, once I _finally_ had the opportunity to explore my sexuality, I discovered that I was rather bisexual. However, that is not the subject. Violence and destruction, I have already given into it. And it only brought me more suffering. It is also a good thing that you have not found my crystal before.”

 “Why?” Tom asked in a low, dangerous tone.

 “Because I would have refused to wake up for someone as bad as you,” Sephiroth replied on a calm, laid-back tone. “My crystal would have been moved elsewhere, and you would never have found me again. Violence and destruction are not what I want. You could have screamed as much as you wanted, you would never have reached me.”

 His gaze then turned to Harry, and the boy was surprised to see that his look was warm, unlike when he looked at Tom. Sephiroth turned his attention back to Riddle, his eyes getting cold and hard again.

 “A voice calling me to put the world on fire would have had no impact on me. But a weak, childlike voice calling for help? Who begs someone to protect him? That, yes, it could reach me. Because that's my truth. That's what I expected and hoped for. That's why I woke up.”

 Harry stared at him with wide eyes as he heard that. So… it was his plea that made him wake up? His eyes went back to Riddle, and they widened. Since earlier, Riddle's silhouette had become less blurry, more solid. He remembered what he said earlier. _He was draining Ginny's life force!_ If it went on, he was going to kill her! Fortunately, Sephiroth was also aware of it.

 “You had your fun, kid. I do not know _exactly_ what you did, but I'm not going to let you kill those children,” he said calmly.

 He closed his left hand on the air, or rather on a sort of... light turquoise green flame, like the pyreflies that had formed the crystal. Flame that disappeared almost immediately to give way to a _long_ sword. Harry looked at it with big eyes. Okay, that was weird. The long, thin blade looked like a Japanese sword… that would have measured nearly seven feets long. It had to be at least as tall as Sephiroth, not to mention the handle. How could he move it with such ease?

 Tom stepped back, visibly surprised. He then smiled badly.

 “All right, if you take it like that. We'll see how the legendary Nightmare holds up against Salazar Slytherin’s Basilisk.”

 He walked away, getting closer to the giant statue. Tom looked up at Slytherin's stone face, half drowned in the darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed, but Harry understood what he was saying.

  _§_ _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four._ §

 Harry blinked in surprise as he heard the password. He would have to ask Esmeralda about it, because he did not see why Salazar had put this sentence to open this entrance. Slytherin's giant face began to move, pulling him from his thoughts. In horror, Harry saw the stone mouth open larger and larger, forming a huge black hole.

 Something stirred inside the gaping mouth, something that slither out of its depths.

 Harry pulled back to the wall and closed his eyes, not wanting to be accidentally killed by Esmeralda. A heavy mass fell to the ground, making him tremble.

  _§_ _Esmeralda, no!§_ He called in a supplicating tone. _§Don’t listen to him!§_

  _§_ _Who are you talking to, Potter?§_ Asked Riddle's mocking voice. _§Don’t you know that the basilisk only obeys descendants of Slytherin? Speaking Parseltongue will not save you here!§_

 The silence stretched, terrifying Harry. Why wasn’t Sephiroth doing anything? What was happening? Riddle spoke again, sounding pissed off.

_§What are you waiting for? Kill him!§_

 Esmeralda then spoke, surprising Harry.

  _§_ _I do not think so, little Black Mage,§_ she hissed. _§You are no longer the heir of Sal.§_

  _§_ _What!?§_ Exclaimed Riddle, obviously shocked.

 Surprised, Harry opened his eyes. Esmeralda was standing in front of him, protecting him with her body. He could not even see Sephiroth, Esmeralda's body being almost as thick as he was tall. Her head was raised high in the air, culminating at least ten meters.

  _§_ _I AM the heir of Salazar Slytherin!§_ Riddle hissed furiously. _§You are supposed to obey me!§_

  _§_ _For that, you would have to be Sal's real heir,§_ Esmeralda replied disdainfully. _§And moreover, you obviously did NOT do your research properly. Otherwise, you would know that I am a female.§_

  _§_ _WHAT?§_ Riddle shouted, looking furious.

  _§_ _Sal had included a clause in his family magic,§_ Esmeralda developed. _§If one of his descendants used a ritual as evil as the one you used with this diary, then he would be immediately disowned. You are no longer Sal's heir since you did that. Harry is. And his claim is superior to yours. I can not say how, but it is.§_

  _§_ _It's impossible!§_ Shouted Tom, visibly losing control of his emotions.

 Esmeralda laughs in response.

  _§_ _It hurts, huh, little Black Mage? To know that you are no longer the heir of Sal? Too bad for you ! In a conflict between two heirs, it is the one with the morality closest to Sal that will win each time. Between obeying you and Harry, Harry will win every time. He is much more worthy of being Sal's heir than you. As for your diary... did you know that my venom is one of the things that can destroy it? Even if it seems that I do not need to take care of it...§_

  _§_ _Leave this diary!§_ Tom suddenly shouted, sounding panicked this time.

  _§_ _I don’t think so, no,§_ Sephiroth replied calmly. _§I finally figured out how the spells you put on this book worked, and I'm going to tell you a secret: I can see magic. And if I can see the threads that support the existence of your soul piece, what do you think I can do to them?§_

  _§_ _NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!§_ yelled Tom.

 His yell suddenly changed into a long shrill scream, which made Harry shudder before cutting itself abruptly. Something fell to the floor, resonating in the sudden silence. All Harry could hear now was a curious sound of drops of water falling to the ground. After a moment, Sephiroth's voice rose in the silence.

_§_ You _can come out, Harry. The danger is over.§_

 Harry cautiously skirted around Esmeralda, coming in sight of Sephiroth. The latter held a little black book between two fingers, his expression slightly disgusted at the ink that continued to drip from it’s pages. He dropped the diary, turning his attention to Harry.

 “It's really over?” The boy asked shyly.

 Sephiroth nodded, turning to squat next to Ginny. Delicately, he took her pulse, nodding in relief as he saw how she was managing. He had intervened just in time. He raised his head as Harry approached, looking worried.

 “Don’t worry, she'll be fine. We intervened just in time. An extra hour, though, and it would have been too late.”

 Harry sighed with relief.

 “Ron will be relieved. And especially her parents. She's their only daughter,” he explained as he saw Sephiroth's intrigued look. “She has six brothers, including Ron.”

 Sephiroth snorted with amusement.

 “The poor child. She should awake soon, but I doubt she will be able to walk for several hours.”

 A groan caught their attention, and Harry squatted in front of Ginny, anxious. She fluttered her eyelids slightly, opening her eyes, and her gaze fell on Esmeralda. Her shrill scream of panic made Sephiroth wince, his sensitive ears resonating under the effect of the decibels. She then passed out, briefly frightening Harry, before Sephiroth calmed him.

 “Relax, she just fainted. I think she panicked when she saw Esmeralda.”

 The latter flattened on the ground, chagrined.

_§I would so much like to tell her that it was not her fault,§_ she hissed.

  _§_ _We will tell her,§_ assured Sephiroth. _§In the meantime, do you know a way for us to get out of here?§_

 Esmeralda nodded.

  _§_ _Sal had planned a staircase that goes up alone in the pipe leading to the bathroom by which the Black Mage made me go out. Even if it was not always a bathroom,§_ she chuckled. _§At the base, it was a wash-house. I don’t know who’s the idiot that decided to make it a bathroom for females.§_

  _§_ _I suppose you just need to ask for stairs in this case?§_ Sephiroth asked without hiding his amusement.

 Esmeralda nodded again.

  _§_ _It will work with Harry, since he is Sal's heir. You should go see the Goblins for an inheritance test,§_ she added to the child. _§They can give you details. All I can say is that you are his heir, and your claim was stronger than this Black Mage.§_

 Harry nodded. Now that he was no longer talking with Sephiroth or Esmeralda, and the danger had passed, he realized he was dying of hunger and thirst. He had already spent more time than that without eating at the Dursleys, but with all these emotions, he was exhausted.

 Sephiroth's hand rested on his shoulder, making him flinch, and he looked up, meeting his concerned gaze.

 “Come on, we have to get out of here. Unless you want me to carry you too?” He asked with humor.

 Harry blushed, a little embarrassed. He could tell that Sephiroth was teasing him, but he was not exhausted enough to be carried! The warrior laughed softly, amused, and stood up, carrying Ginny with one arm, effortlessly. Her head was propped on his shoulder, and he checked that she was not slipping, before beckoning Harry to open the door.

 The latter headed for the huge door closing the room, promising Esmeralda that he would come back to talk with her. They took the path he had traveled alone on the way out, and Harry realized that, in the end, it was not that long. The stress had given him the feeling that the tunnel was endless, whereas in the end it should not be more than 800 meters, maximum.

 When they reached the bottom of the pipe/water slide, Harry wondered how he was going to make the stairs appeared. Then he saw a small snake sculpture on the wall next to it, so detailed that it seemed real. He had only to move his wand slightly, which still gave a faint glow, to have the impression that it was moving.

  _§_ _Can I have stairs please?§_ He hissed. _§And could the pipe be cleaned as well please.§_

 Harry did not know if it was because he had asked for it in Parseltongue, because he was Slytherin's heir (and a better than Tom/Voldemort), or because he had asked politely, but almost instantly the pipe was cleaned perfectly and made stairs appear. He did not even ask questions, too many strange things happened lately, and he climbed onto the first step, Sephiroth just behind him.

 The stairway immediately set in motion, and Harry was relieved not to have to climb up everything he had slid down. It was going a little faster than a muggle escalator, from the few times Harry had been able to accompany the Dursleys when they could not let him locked up in the cupboard or at Madame Figg's. After a while, Harry would have been unable to say how long exactly, the moving staircase left them in the girls' bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle. They had just come out, and the sink, back into place, when Myrtle came out of her cabin. She glanced at Sephiroth, and plunged sharply into the toilet pipe with a howling wail of panic that did not even wake up Ginny.

 “Do I really want to know?” Harry asked tiredly.

 “My legend,” Sephiroth replied in a similar tone. “Now, what do we do? I would of like to have Ginny examined by a competent healer, not wanting to insult the school nurse, but I do not know what time it is.”

 Harry glanced at his watch, and groaned at the time. 9 o'clock in the evening, almost 10 o'clock. That meant dinner was over for a long time, and if they went to the Common Room now, EVERYONE was going to jump on them and demand answers. And what was that alarm wailing?

 Just as he was thinking about it, the alarm went silent with a strangled squeak. The warrior and the child exchanged a puzzled look, then another ghost passed through the wall. Harry was used to the phenomenon, and Sephiroth just twitched. He had rarely seen spirits except for Zack and Aerith, but things had changed since his time. The little couple was at least in color, not in shades of gray. And what were these chains for?

 "Good evening, Mr. Bloody Baron," said Harry timidly.

 The gloomy ghost nodded in response.

 “Good evening, young Harry. Hogwarts alerted me to your presence and your problem. If you would like to follow me…”

 Sephiroth twitched again, but followed the movement without saying anything. It was more difficult to remain impassive before the paintings that spoke. The Lifestream had certainly offered him a certain amount of information related to the time around him, keeping it more or less up to date, but it was one thing to know about talking portraits, and another one of to see them with his own eyes.

 Harry spoke shyly, pulling him from his thoughts.

 “Baron, can I ask you a question? How where you called before?”

 “Edmund, young Harry. However, I would prefer you to use my old name only in private.”

 “Okay. Baron Edmund, how did Hogwarts know we had a problem?”

 The ghosts laughed amusingly, sounding rather disturbing despite his obvious amusement.

 “Young Harry, for a millennium, wizards have succeeded between these walls. All, young and adults, have used magic almost daily. Is it any wonder that Hogwarts has developed her own consciousness? The stairs did not move so randomly at the very beginning. In addition, Hogwarts has always appreciated you.”

 More shyly, Harry replied.

 “Esmeralda, Salazar Slytherin’s Basilisk, said that I was his heir. Would that be why the school likes me?”

 The Bloody Baron stopped short, taking Sephiroth by surprise, distracted as he was by his surroundings, and the latter passed through him, giving him the impression of passing through an icy waterfall. He immediately took a step to the side to get out of the ghost, which did not even pay attention to him, busy studying Harry. Finally, he nodded, resuming his way.

 “That would explain a lot of things indeed. I knew Salazar Slytherin in my lifetime, and I must admit that you share common traits, even if you look a lot like your father. I do not think it's a good time to claim ownership of the school, though. Hogwarts would refuse to keep Professor Dumbledore. But he's the only one Riddle fears. The director is not really reliable, but with Riddle still alive... in a way, certainly, but not in the afterlife.”

 “So you know what's going on in the school,” Sephiroth said thoughtfully.

 “Yes, but we have not been listened to for a long time,” sighed the lugubrious ghost. “In the past, the school had a Code of Conduct, which helped cohesion between houses, and was enforced by the school herself.”

 “I see ... something to consider,” Sephiroth said thoughtfully.

 Fortunately, there was absolutely no one in the corridors, and they quickly reached their destination, yet located on the seventh floor of the castle. The Baron led them to a particularly hideous tapestry, representing a wizard... trying to teach trolls to dance? Sephiroth stared at the tapestry with a mixture of perplexity and disgust, asking serious questions about the mental health of wizards.

 The Bloody Baron turned to them.

 “All you have to do is walk through the hallway three times, thinking of what you need to bring up the Room on Requirement. Probably the greatest creation of Lady Ravenclaw. It can not, however, bring up the food, but ask for a House Elf once inside, and they will bring you food. Good night.”

 With that, he went through the wall, leaving them alone. Harry and Sephiroth exchanged glances, then the boy shrugged, and started down the hall, thinking they needed a room where they could eat something and sleep until the morning without being disturbed.

 On his third return, he heard Sephiroth whistle admiringly, and he turned around. He saw that a door had appeared in the wall, in front of the tapestry. Cautiously, he went to open it and put his head in the opening. He saw a table for three on one side, and three beds similar to those of the dormitories on the other. Opening the door wide, he let Sephiroth in, closing behind him. The latter immediately went to put Ginny on one of the beds, and took off her shoes before tucking her under the covers.

 Harry watched him do it, then, timidly, feeling a little ridiculous, called into the empty air:

 “Could I have a house elf please?”

 *Pop*

 “What can Tippy do for Master Harry Potter?” Asked a little being who looked like Dobby, but less skinny.

 The latter, too tired to argue with the title, replied gently:

 “Would it be possible to bring us food please? I have not eat anything since this morning, and Sephiroth I do not know since when, but at least a good millennium.”

 “Try rather ten thousand minimum,” was the amused answer. “And I have a very high metabolism. Compared to a normal human, I consume as much as three people in a meal.”

 The elf squeaked in terror at the silverette, and clung to Harry's leg. Sephiroth did not seem really surprised by the reaction, but Harry suspected that he was probably hurt, even if he was used to it. So he bothered to squat in front of the terrified elf, and briefly explained Sephiroth's story. He did not really know if it had any effect, since the poor elf kept shaking like a leaf, but he would at least have tried.

 The elf disappeared a few minutes later, and returned to put food on the table, leaving immediately, obviously not wanting to stay longer in the presence of the Nightmare. Harry would have been unable to tell what he had eaten, too exhausted by his emotions. Telling his story twice in a row had been hard, emotionally speaking, but somewhere it had comforted him.

Once his stomach was full, he went to the bed, and was vaguely surprised to see his pajamas lying on it. He did not even ask questions, and changed quickly, crumbling on the covers, too tired to slip underneath. He was surprised, however, to feel Sephiroth tuck him, as he had done with Ginny. He turned his head vaguely, and met the warrior's gaze. The latter passed his hand through his hair, a gesture to which he was not used, but which comforted him strangely.

“Sleep,” said the silverette softly. “Don’t worry, I'll watch over you.”

Harry nodded slightly, and closed his eyes. The next second, he was asleep.

Sephiroth sat down on the chair, staring at the children sleeping. The first time he saw Harry, he had vaguely reminded him of a child Zack, physically speaking, much leaner. His personality, on the other hand, reminded him more of Angeal. Less focused on honor, but quite similar. He wondered if he could cook too. In any case, he could not do worse than Genesis. He chuckled, thinking about that. The redhead had been a real pyromaniac, including in the kitchen. You had to love what was burned with him. Even Sephiroth was better at cooking. After all, you just had to follow the instructions.

He sighed. He was missing his friends. He was even missing the _Puppy_ at this point. And _her_ too. He closed his eyes, rubbing his face to wipe his tears. Every time he thought of her, he could not help but see her body lying on the floor, dead. Shaking his head, he forced himself to think of something else.

The Dursleys would be his priority when leaving the school. With a little luck, the Goblins could help him get custody of Harry. He had serious doubts about Harry's family business, given what had happened so far in his life. Besides, how could they afford so much food? Even without spending anything on Harry, there was something fishy. Did they get something from the state? He groaned in frustration. The Lifestream had not given him much information about the current laws, he would have to do some research on it.

The night passed thus, Sephiroth planning his next moves, trying to plan for all eventualities.

Meanwhile, at Number 4 Privet Drive, the occupants shivered in their sleep, two of them even waking with a start, with the impression that someone had stepped on their grave.

oOo

The staff looked up in surprise when the alarm suddenly stopped in a strangled squeak. Even Lockhart was silent, obviously surprised, stopping in the midst of his boasting that he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was. There was an icy chill in the backs of a number of people, including Dumbledore and Snape.

The Sorting Hat chuckled.

“It seems that the danger has passed... concerning the object of black magic anyway. Albus, in your place, I'll leave the young Mr. Potter alone. I very much doubt that his... bodyguard appreciates your little tricks,” he said ominously. “After, you do what you want.”

Albus glared at him, but dared not say anything out loud. Too many witnesses. Fortunately, no one had grasped his hints. And he had already ordered the portraits and the Sorting Hat long ago to say nothing in the presence of other people.

He was going to have to speed up Harry's return to his uncle and aunt, if he wanted to be able to keep control of his plans.

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Nightmare is plotting… The Dursleys don’t have any chances *evil cackle*


	3. Who sow the wind

Harry felt a hand shake him to wake him up. He groaned “Five more min Ron…” and turned around, ready to go back to sleep. His blanket was torn from him, and he protested, still half asleep. Raising his head to glare at the one who had deprived him of his heat source (most likely Dean or Seamus), he was instantly awake when he saw that it was actually Sephiroth. Who seemed really amused this time.

And everything came back to him. The sheet of paper in Hermione's hand, the descent into the Chamber of Secrets, Esmeralda, Sephiroth, his awakening followed by their discussion, and the confrontation with Riddle/Voldemort.

“Get up Harry. I already let you sleep later than expected, you really looked exhausted. But the Bloody Baron has already come to say it was breakfast time. And the students have already begun to be released from their common rooms, according to him.”

Harry groaned as he heard that. It promised to be chaotic, then. He had disappeared since midday the day before, and if all the students had been sent to their common rooms, it was impossible to conceal his disappearance or that of Ginny. With the alarm that had apparently echoed the day before, impossible to miss their disappearances.

“Ginny!” He exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

The girl was sitting on her own bed, curled up on herself, tears clearly running down her cheeks. Obviously, the events of the day before still weighed on her. Sephiroth put his hand on his shoulder, making him raise his head.

“Get dressed first. We'll have to go down, and I doubt you want to expose yourself in pajamas,” he added with amusement.

Harry looked down at his current outfit, and nodded, blushing. He went up on the bed, pulling the draperies for a little privacy. His uniform and his robe had been cleansed by the school house elves, and he put them on with relief. He wouldn’t have liked to have to put back on a dirty uniform. Once dressed, he came out and noticed that the third bed had apparently not been used. Surprised, he looked at Sephiroth.

“You didn’t sleep last night?” He asked shyly.

Sephiroth laughed softly.

“Harry, I slept for more than ten thousand years minimum. And I promised you I'd watch over you two, right? A night of missed sleep will not cause me any problems. In the worst case, I can go up to a week without sleep, if the circumstances require it. It's rare, but it has happened to me before.”

Harry looked at him with big eyes. Hearing this, he almost felt that Sephiroth was not human. And yet, he was the first adult to seem to really care about his well-being. But above all, his story had shown him that he was ultimately an almost normal man. And, at one point, like any normal human being, he had snapped. More violently than the average, certainly, but it was inevitable given what he had lived. Harry was even surprised that he had held on so long.

He then walked over to Ginny, and put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She jumped violently, visibly surprised, and looked up terrifiedly at Harry. Seeing it was only him, she partially calmed down, but burst into tears.

“I'm sorry Harry!” She sobbed. “I didn’t want to do all this! But I couldn’t stop! Harry... Oh, Harry, I tried to tell you... the other day... but I... I couldn’t talk in front of Percy. It was me, Harry... but I swear... I didn’t want to do that... It's Riddle who forced me to... He imposed himself with his power and... How did you kill… Where is Riddle? The last thing I remember is when he came out of... his diary... And... who is it?” She asked, clearly speaking of Sephiroth. “He... he look like the character of the Meteor Legend... but... he…”

“Ginny calm down,” Harry tried to calm her, uncomfortable. “I know it was not your fault. Riddle is gone now, Sephiroth took care of him. We are in one of the castle room, we slept there. Sephiroth watched over us during the night.”

Ginny looked up, tears still running down her cheeks, disconcerted.

“Sephiroth?”

“Sephiroth Valentine to be precise,” the latter presented himself.

Harry looked at him in surprise, it was the first time he had heard him use a last name. Sephiroth shot him a look that clearly said "later," and Harry did not insist. He turned to Ginny again, and gave her the best explanation he could invent in such a short time.

“He's going to be my bodyguard for now. With everything that happens to me in my life, I really need it,” he added dejectedly.

In addition, it was largely the truth. Slightly distorted, but the truth. After all, Sephiroth said he woke up hearing his plea. He didn’t even know why he said that, but that was what the warrior wanted to hear from his crystal. Ginny nodded slightly, before adding timidly.

“What do we do now?”

“We're going down to the Great Hall for breakfast,” Harry said. “I don’t really want to be stared at by the whole school,” he grumbled, “ But we can’t stay hidden forever. And your brothers must be worry.”

Ginny turned pale when she heard that, but she nodded and got out of bed, putting on her shoes. Her clothes had obviously been exchanged during the night, probably by a House Elf, so they were clean, though a bit wrinkled, as she had slept in it. There must have been a millennium of grime in that pipe when they traveled in it on the way down.

As he walked out of the Room of Requirement, Harry looked around himself, completely lost. It was the first time he had come to this area of the castle, so he was lost. He looked up at Sephiroth, hoping he would at least remember the way to the girls' bathroom. Once there, he could find the way to the Great Hall.

“Follow me,” gently ordered the silverette, choosing a direction with confidence.

Harry was surprised to see the path they had traveled the day before. He did not remember that it was so far! After a while, they arrived at Myrtle's bathroom, and Harry took a few seconds to orient himself.

“That way”, he said, starting to walk, the two others following him obediently.

Ginny was almost glued to him, visibly fearing Sephiroth, who was just looking around, seeming to memorize the path. Finally, they arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry took a deep breath. He  _ hated _ his fame. Everyone was going to looked at him again, and the fact that he was coming back with Ginny was going to blow his reputation through  the roof. While it was Sephiroth who did almost everything!

He reluctantly pushed the doors open, and he could hear the sound of gossip on the other side. Which died when he entered with Sephiroth and Ginny, before changing into panic screams among part of the student population. Mainly on the side of older students, and probably a majority of Pureblood. Even the teachers seemed frightened, and Dumbledore was the first to act, skirting the teachers' table to get close to them, wand out and ready to act.

His first spell, however, simply produced a sound of explosion, like cannon fire, bringing silence. He then shifted his wand to Sephiroth, who calmly stood motionless, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised. Harry moved quietly to get behind the warrior, his Headmaster scared him. There was no trace of the grandfather a little eccentric in Dumbledore's attitude, even his eyes did not twinkle as they usually did. Harry understood better why he was the only wizard Voldemort ever feared, he was terrifying like that.

“Who are you?” Dumbledore asked, completely serious for once.

“Sephiroth Valentine,” was the calm answer. “And yourself?”

The old wizard blinked, a little surprised by the calmness of his interlocutor, and the fact that he doesn’t seem to recognize him. It was the first time that this had happened.

“Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts,” he answered, still on his guard. “What are you doing here?”

“Bless you,” said Sephiroth, sarcastically. “Well, I was hired by Harry Potter here as a bodyguard. And from what I've learned, he needs it.”

“Potter, what crap did you do again?” snarled Snape while approaching, frowning in all his dark glory.

Harry did not have time to say anything, Sephiroth had interposed himself between him and the “dungeons bat”, as the students called him. He grabbed his shoulder, making the Potions master wince under the force of his grip. Snape felt a shiver run down his back, realizing that his interlocutor was holding back. And if he was right... then he was probably able to tear off his arm without much effort. He glared at him, ready to swear at him in the most contemptuous way possible, but his voice died in his throat, crossing the feline eyes that faced him.

The look was cold and hard, and he felt a chill of dread running through his back, realizing that Sephiroth could certainly kill him without hesitation if he pushed things. He tried to use Legilimency to find out what his opponent had in mind... but he came up against a barrier stronger than anything he had ever encountered. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, then leaned over and whispered in the professor's ear.

“If I were you, I would stop doing that right now. I'll leave you alone for this time, but next time I'm not going to be that... forgiving.”

He straightened up and let go, Snape recoiling immediately, massaging his shoulder. He was certainly going to have to take out the bruises balm, and he would not be surprised to find a Sephiroth's hand-shape mark. The Potions teacher was a lot of things, but an idiot, certainly not. He decided here and now that if he could avoid confrontation with Sephiroth, he would do it. And if that meant leaving Potter alone, so be it.

The students began to whisper in front of the demonstration, especially when Snape moved to get behind Dumbledore, after whispering something in his ear. The old wizard frowned as he heard what the spy was telling him. This... individual was someone dangerous. Much too dangerous. And if he took Harry with him... his plans might fall apart. He could not afford it.

“And why do you look like the legendary Nightmare?”

Sephiroth decided to have a little fun with them, and also to mislead them a bit. If they thought he had nothing to do with the character of his legend, they would be less suspicious. He began to change the color of his hair and eyes, and also played with the length of his hair. The whispers resumed around them, less frightened this time, and he saw redheads approaching by the corner of his eye. No doubt the brothers of Ginny. Twins, a seemingly older brother, and another of the same age as Harry, probably the famous Ron. Ginny seemed reluctant to join them, so he gently pushed her in the back, making her flinch.

He gave her a soft smile as she looked up at him.

“Go on.”

She took a few seconds to understand what he was saying, but left running to join her brothers when his words penetrated her brain. They grabbed her, pulling her into a multiple embrace, only Ron hesitating, looking towards Sephiroth and Harry. The warrior turned back his attention to a Dumbledore obviously baffled by his appearance changes. Fortunately, Sephiroth had also learned about some of the wizards' peculiarities, apart from Parselmouth, including metamorphmagus. If they thought he was one, it would give him more time before they realized who he really was. It would inevitably happen, he had no illusions, but at least he would buy some time. 

“Let's say that I take his appearance to make the morons run away. If they stop only at my appearance and they do not try to get to know me, then they are not worth the trouble of me taking interested in them.”

“I... see,” said Dumbledore slowly. “In any case, your... worry is appreciated about Harry, but you don’t have to worry. He isn’t risking anything.”

“And I’m a Chocobo’s ass,” Sephiroth replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It's  _ out of the question _ for him to go back to those... animals that pretend to be his family. As for what happens in this school…”

Dumbledore frowned, then froze as he went to argue. He had completely forgotten that they were in the middle of the Great Hall, with a good part of the student body watching them. Sephiroth's demonstration seemed to have made them forget who he was (Albus was pretty sure he  _ was _ the legendary Nightmare, the timing was too close), but if they continued, there would be things that would be revealed, and that he wanted to keep hidden. He was perfectly aware of Harry's treatment at the hands of his uncle and aunt, thanks to the objects he had bound to the child. His treatment was part of his plan, he needed Harry to be weak and manipulable.

“If you do not mind, we'll talk about it later,” Dumbledore said, trying to project his eccentric grandfather's persona.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“I doubt that I’ll change my mind. Now, if you do not mind, I suggest stopping this show. Harry had a stressful day yesterday, as did Ginny. I hope that you will organize an examination with a competent healer, given what happened to her this year.”

“I'll think about it,” Dumbledore replied, without going too far.

If she was ever seen by a healer... information about the Horcrux could be leak by word of mouth. And they might get to Tom's ears, although he's not in England right now. If that was the case, he was likely to move the others he had made (he was almost certain he had made 6, Harry included). And to make them inaccessible.

Sephiroth stared at him intently, feeling his lack of sincerity. He then snorted, suspicious, and turned, placing his hand in Harry's back to guide him to the table where the redheads were sitting around their sister. He could feel Harry shivering under his hand, and above all he could feel his leanness under his uniform, despite being able to eat as much as he needed for 10 month. His desires for murder resurfaced, and he struggled to control them. Yes, keeping him as far away as possible from these... animals was definitely a priority.

They sat next to the redheads, who looked at them briefly out of the corner of their eyes, more concerned about their little sister than him. Ron was the only one to look at him with a frown, apparently not pleased with his presence. But if he wanted to sit next to Harry, his options were limited, the other side being taken by Sephiroth. On the other side of the silverette, the students had pushed away as far as they could, clearly not comfortable with him, despite his demonstration.

He couldn’t really blame them. He had always been impressive, and his lack of sociability had not helped. His education had focused solely on war, and all that was going on around it. Interacting with people was considered secondary, and he had to learn that on the job. The missteps had been many, especially before meeting Genesis and Angeal. Understanding what others thought had always been a problem. With  _ Her _ ... he could begin to understand how to interact in a less... harsh way. Use metaphors and euphemisms, and not always tell what was on his mind as it came to him. Coat a few words. Certainly there were times when it was necessary to say what was on his mind, but not always.

He sighed, rubbing his face. He had to stop thinking about that. Maybe observing the children around him would help him. Even if Ron, according to what Harry had said, also lacked manners. He frowned as he looked at the boy. He had as much table manners as a Behemoth, for Minerva's sake!

Annoyed, he leaned over Harry, and banged lightly on Ron's head with his knuckles, causing the boy to freeze.

“What are you, an animal?” Sephiroth questioned without hiding his annoyance. “You have cutlery, use them. And close your mouth when you eat.”

Ron stayed frozen a few seconds, a little pale, then swallowed his bite, before making smaller pieces. He continued to eat without pausing, just taking the time to cut off his food. He also kept his mouth shut a bit more, and Sephiroth nodded with satisfaction as he straightened up. Better. Not perfect yet, but better. He noticed the relief in the expression of the children in front of Ron, and wondered  _ why _ , in the name of the Goddess, his parents had not instilled good table manners in him.

He frowned as he looked at the food in front of him. He was not a fan of fatty foods like that, but a glance at the length of the table showed him that there was nothing more to his liking. Well, given his metabolism, he was not at risk of gaining weight anyway. With an inaudible sigh, he began to eat, keeping an eye on his surroundings out of habit. A good thing, otherwise he would have had an unfortunate reflex when a chestnut missile hit Harry.

He watched with some amusement the reunion between Harry and Hermione (the famous chestnut missile), who tried to stifle Harry in her embrace. However, the boy obviously did not resent her, if he judged by the broad smile he wore. Hermione was one of his only two friends, which caused his heart to pinch by reminding him of his own situation. He chuckled softly as he heard her talking at full speed, wondering if Harry could follow.

It reminded him of that time that someone had found a way to give Genesis a  _ whole _ mug of espresso. And not even a small one. The latter had been hyper for almost an hour, before fainting in a corner when the effect had stopped. He had recited Loveless at full speed all that time, and only the force of habit had allowed him to understand what he was saying. He suspected Reno for that one. Above all because the red Turk had been the first to circulate the photos of Genesis in compromising position.

Finally, Hermione calmed herself long enough for Harry to summarize his adventures. He did not say much more than to Ginny, but her friend froze and looked at Sephiroth with wide eyes.

Hermione had read about Sephiroth, of course. After all, his legend was even older than Merlin's, and equally famous. Yet she failed to panic at seeing him. Because his eyes did not look like the one described in the stories, full of hatred, malice and madness. No, his gaze on her was calm and impassive, with barely a hint of curiosity. And, strangely, his presence was reassuring. She did not know why, but he made her feel safe. As if she had found something she had missed. Moreover, according to Harry, it was Voldemort who had throw the Basilisk at the students. And Sephiroth had apparently defeated him. So that made him a good person, right?

Finally, the breakfast was over, and most of the students left, some going to their common rooms to finish their homework, others going outside, enjoying the sun. Harry decided to take the opportunity to explore the castle with Sephiroth, just to show him the place. Hopefully, if they get lost, Sephiroth could allow them to find their way back. And like that, he could tell his story to Hermione.

Leaving the Great Hall, he headed to the Gryffindor Common Room, telling Hermione what she had missed during the time she was petrified. He had just reach when he found the page in her hand, when Sephiroth motioned them to stop. He stared at two students a little further away, one of them, older, clearly bullying a younger student, probably a first year. The latter was clearly terrified, and seemed close to tears.

Sephiroth strode forward, Harry and Hermione cautiously remaining behind. He had not talked much about his life as a General to Harry, but he had told him that he had never tolerated harassment. Whenever he had come across such situations, he had always invited the harasser for a "nice" discussion in his office, making him understand that it was in his best interest to not do it again. If he would do so, he would be send away with disgrace from the army, and banned from all the possible lists of engagement. And he had better not be trying to come back with a false name.

Harry recognized one of the students when Sephiroth put his hand on his shoulder, pulling him back and away from the terrified first year. It was a Gryffindor third year, Conac ... no, Cormac MacLaggen. He was absolutely infrequentable, persuaded to be Merlin's Gift to the girls. And he was really arrogant, aggressive, and self-righteous. Harry thought he embodied the worst features of their house. The first year, on the other hand, was a poor Slytherin.

Contrary to popular belief, Harry had nothing in particular against the house of snakes. It was more Ron that did. Harry's problem was summed up in one name, Malfoy. He and his clique had plagued his life from the first day. Otherwise, Harry had little more interest in Slytherin than in the other houses, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

He and Hermione helped the poor completely lost boy, picking up his books and helping him put them back in his bag, while Sephiroth passed a monumental dressing down to a completely bewildered Cormac. The young Slytherin then fled, more than surprised that the Gryffindor Golden Boy had helped a "slimy snake" as Ron called them.

Cormac then took on Harry, clearly furious.

“Potter! Why did your "bodyguard" attacked me like that? We can’t even make snakes learn their place now?”

Harry flinched under the volume of his voice, which dangerously reminded him of Dudley, before Sephiroth, even more annoyed, pulled him aside to give him  _ another _ dressing down. At the end of it, Cormac, pissed, walked away, stomping his feet, visibly furious that someone dare to tell him what to do in school, without being a prefect or teacher. Harry sighed. The story would certainly be out around the school before lunch, if it even took that long.

He looked at Sephiroth, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, as if to restrain a migraine or a deep annoyance. He let out a sigh and looked at the children in front of him.

“Decidedly, humanity does not get better with time. It's a wonder  _ why _ Minerva took the trouble to equip humans with a brain.”

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to fire questions at him, but Harry put a hand on her shoulder to silence her. She glared at him, until he explained.

“Hermione, you can ask as many questions as you want later, I promise. For the moment, there is too much risk that someone hear us.”

His friend could only recognize the accuracy of these arguments, which did not prevent her from grabbing Harry's hand to drag him behind her. Sephiroth followed them, laughing softly at Hermione's eagerness to absorb new knowledge. A little scholar at heart, this child. It reminded him a little of Genesis, but less obsessed by Loveless.

They passed quickly in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at the name, but made no comment. They did not come in, mainly because they would be sleeping there tonight, and Harry did not want to be stared at/interrogated by everyone.

Finally, he reached the Astronomy Tower, one of the highest points of the school. Harry pointed to the Forbidden Forest, Black Lake, and some other landmarks to Sephiroth.

The latter shook his head.

“To tell children not to go somewhere is to encourage them to do just that. Even I know that. And it's especially obvious about your first year, Harry. Especially knowing that it was enough for a simple opening spell to unlock the door.”

His remark had the dam burst free, and Hermione bombarded him with questions about his story, why he was there, when his legend had happened, and so on. Sephiroth, amused, answered all her questions. Fortunately, she did not ask about his personal life, or rather the lack of privacy he had. He told her everything he had said to Harry, developing a little more what Jenova was in front of her curiosity on this subject, insisting on her dangerousness. A Calamity from the sky that had almost wiped out the Cetras, or Ancients, when it had landed, and ended up provoking their extinction as their own people. He was not sure, but thought the wizards might have been descendants of Cetras who had mixed with normal humans.

He did not hesitate to explain how he had almost destroyed the world under the influence of Jenova. He did not hide his role in the death of the last Cetra aware of her powers. Unfortunately, he could not answer many questions about Cetras. Their story had been lost long before his own birth, and even Aerith, as she had told him, had never known more than the basics. Even Ifalna, her biological mother, knew little more about it. And almost all the other souls of the Cetras had long since been absorbed into the Lifestream, melting into it’s very stream.

The magic had evolved a lot since his time too. The Materia had been forgotten, or the knowledge about them had been deliberately lost.

It provoked a new flood of questions about the magic of his time, the Materia, and who was Minerva. He had answered as best he could, explaining that he was not really the best person to talk about Materia.

“Who do we need to ask then?” Hermione asked, sulking slightly at the fact that he could not answer as precisely as she would have liked.

“Genesis was considered to be the Materia expert within Shinra,” Sephiroth said softly, his gaze fading into the forest. “If you wanted to know something about Materia, he was the one to ask. But unless he has reincarnated…”

“Do you think he is?” Harry asked softly.

Sephiroth shrugged.

“It all depends on whether Angeal has reincarnated too. Knowing them, since they had already refused to be promoted separately, I doubt that they reincarnated very far from each other. A few months of difference at most. And that if they did not reincarnate as a woman, one or the other,” He added, laughing.

“That’s possible?” asked Hermione curiously.

“Of course. The Cetras, according to what Aerith told me, thought that no life was superior to the others, and therefore it was quite possible for a person to be reincarnated into an animal, a monster or even a plant. So I do not see why they could not have reincarnated as a woman. By cons, I can completely imagine Genesis insulting the Goddess if his memories come back to him and he is a woman. He may venerate her, but I doubt that he will enjoy being in the body of a woman. He had, let's say, a little reputation as a womanizer before he deserted,” he added, becoming melancholic again at the end. “Even though he calmed down afterwards.”

Hermione, curious, asked for clarification with a touch of hesitation. She could see that it was a sensitive subject. Sephiroth was not very precise, just talking about the fact that they had been sent to other worlds. He knew the theory of parallel worlds a little, thanks to a young woman, so he explained that he and Angeal had been brought back to life, and that they had another chance in another world, and Genesis had been brought out of his sleep and sent there too.

He did not dwell on what had happened, simply explaining that this world was in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and Hermione shivered at that. The mere mention of zombie terrified her, to the greatest perplexity of her parents. The fashion was just starting to take off, but out of the question for her to be interested. She was too young to look at that anyway, but every time someone talked about it, it terrified her for no reason.

She was surprised to learn that the young woman he was talking about had lost her sight because of a nuclear bomb. A plane had bombed a city a little further. Just far enough that she was not hit by the radiation, but close enough to see the explosion, and lose her sight because of it. They had protected her in their travels, until she was killed in yet another world.

Under the effect of rage and grief, Genesis had used one of his Limit Breaks, a particular attack that people of their time could use when they had taken enough hits, a bit like  an episode of accidental magic, which would always have a precise effect. Unfortunately, the Limit Break had a connection with the Lifestream, and their access to Materia had been blocked, so the Limit, called Apocalypse, had caused a violent backlash on his body, which had caused him to vomit blood before dying.

And Angeal was also killed, by a survivor of the squadron who attacked them. Sadly, Sephiroth could have only arrived after the fact, and Angeal, although still alive, was dying. He had survived just long enough to tell him what had happened before he died. He had almost destroyed a good piece of the area under the effect of anger and pain, but the spirit of the young woman had stopped him. She told him they were not worth it. Killing them would not bring him anything except a feeling of emptiness. It would not bring her back to life.

Heartbroken, he had returned to Gaia with their bodies, following Aerith and Zack. He had then asked to be sealed in a Lifestream Crystal, in the hope that one day he would find a reason to live. And he had slept for more than ten thousand years, until he heard Harry begging someone to protect him. He would not repeat what the boy had told him out of respect for him, but one thing was certain, he would not let him go back to those… animals.

Hermione nodded with satisfaction. The little that Harry had told her about his life with the Dursleys painted a pretty dark picture, and the story of Harry's rescue last summer indicated that there was something really wrong in this house. What sadist locked a child in his room like a criminal, with half a dozen locks, and giving him only a bowl of soup a day? Not to mention that they only let him out for 10 minutes a day, morning and evening, to use the bathroom and wash, leaving him locked up the rest of the time. No, there was something wrong in this house. Wondering how Harry could think of it as his home.

She shook her head. Where did that come from? Why did she think of that?

Harry looked at his watch, and sighed that it was already time for lunch. The show never stopped at Hogwarts, and he was often the main attraction. If he could have remained hidden until the end of his schooling, he would have done so. He was tired of being the savior of the wizarding world, or sometimes Voldemort’s heir. He was just Harry, damn it! Just a kid of 12 who wanted to be normal!

Maybe now that Sephiroth was there, he could relax a little. With luck, Sephiroth would not mind drawing attention to himself, and people would forget about him. He snorted. He could always dream.

Reluctantly, he took the way leading to the Great Hall. Hermione continued to talk with Sephiroth, but on the subject of the various monsters that were in his day, and he listened distractedly with one ear. Of course, his point of view was that of someone who had to kill them to protect civilians, but some needed some strategy to eliminate them. Certainly, given his power, it was sometimes enough for him to simply dominate them by force, but even he had his limits.

And where his subordinates could sometimes rest (and how he had envied Genesis and Angeal when they were on vacation, even though he never said it out loud), he never had a vacation. He had only worked, and his workload had become even worse with the desertion of Lazard Deusericus, who had been the Director of SOLDIER until he disappeared with Angeal. They had stuck him with the position without asking his opinion, and he had not dared to protest, too well conditioned to obey orders, until he snapped.

“Sometimes,” he says softly, “you have to know when to say no, and refuse when it gets too hard. Trust in authority should be done with caution, because power corrupts, and some are willing to do anything to keep it.”

“But…” wanted to protest Hermione.

“Hermione, I do not know why you have such blind trust in authority, and I will not ask you, but you should moderate it, or one day it will cause you trouble. I'm not saying it's bad, but some teachers are clearly not worthy of this trust, like Snape. This morning he tried to enter my mind without my permission. He now knows that if he tries again, I will not be content to deny him access.”

“He can do that?” Exclaimed Hermione with surprise.

Even Harry looked up as he heard that. Some wizards could read minds? The mere fact that it was possible gave him chills. His mind was the last place nobody touched, and he didn’t want to be violated without his permission.

“He can, and, from the rare information that I have, did it illegally. Normally, you need a Ministry authorization for that.”

“How can we counter that?” Harry asked with determination.

“Learn Occlumency. On the other hand,” warned Sephiroth, “it is a hard discipline to control. I would not be surprised if Hermione had some natural shields, but you still have to train hard to get there.”

Harry nodded, determined to learn how to protect his mind from intrusions. Hermione, for her part, was already thinking about the books to get to learn that. She did not remember seeing them in the school library, which was a bit suspicious. Maybe in the Restricted Section? On the other hand, it would take another pass to access it, that is if she knows the title of the book she needed. She was going to have to wait to go home and be able to go to Diagon Alley to find what she was looking for. She let out a grunt of frustration at this thought. She hated having to wait to acquire new knowledge, which could also be useful to her right now.

Sephiroth looked at her with amusement at her grunt of frustration. Yes, a real copy of Genesis, without Loveless's obsession. He sighed. If only his friends could reincarnate... Unfortunately, it was not an exact science. As far as he knew, they were not ready yet to reincarnate.

Arriving in the Great Hall, they were accosted by an incredulous Ron.

“Harry, Cormac did not stop complaining that you would have prevented him from making a Slytherin learn his place. It is true?”

“Ron,” Harry said exasperatedly, “Cormac was  _ attacking _ a first year. I did not see it was a Slytherin before Sephiroth pulled Cormac back. And it was he who gave Cormac a scolding, I didn’t do anything.”

“But... but... it was a Slytherin!” Stammered Ron.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass,” Harry grumbled. “It was a first year, point. It could have been a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or even a Gryffindor, I would have intervened anyway. Well, I would have let Sephiroth do it.”

Ron looked about to protest until Sephiroth lift him by the collar, snatching a surprise squeak. Whatever he was about to say, the words got stuck in his throat when crossing the warrior's annoyed look.

“Ronald Weasley. Since when should someone's house have an impact on intervening in an aggression or not?” He asked in an icy tone. “I do not care about the houses of those who are attacked, like Harry. If I see a child having problems, I will intervene, that's all. Now, I do not want to hear you on that subject anymore, am I clear?”

Ron just stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth open in amazement. Why did he have a shiver running down his back when he saw him like that? He didn’t even knew him! Sephiroth shook him out of his thoughts, by shaking him slightly to get his attention, repeating his question. He nodded his head frantically, not daring to speak, and the warrior put him back down, satisfied.

The scene had caught the attention of everyone, and the last skeptics at the Slytherin table were forced to admit that the first year was right. The rest of the school was perplexed, but for once the rumors were right. Ron rushed to the table, not wanting to be even more humiliated by Sephiroth. He, Harry, and Hermione followed more quietly, and sat next to him, Sephiroth on the other side of his protege, while Hermione sat in front of him.

The meal was lighter than the discussions of the morning, turning more around the lessons. Sephiroth resolved to keep an eye on Lockhart, the incompetent giving him the impression of being an impostor. He'd have to borrow Hermione's books to look at this, but he was under no illusions. This man represented a potential threat to the future, but not because he was good at fighting, rather the opposite. Teaching students to remember his favorite colors or what he supposedly did would not teach them anything useful. He was posing a threat to their education, and he was well placed to know how important it was for the future. Especially with Voldemort continuing to walk free, even though he was currently a specter.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, a migraine beginning to form. He had not been awake for 24 hours and he already felt as though as he had returned to his position as General, with the duties of the SOLDIER Director added on top. At least he did not have to deal with the Puppy. His endless enthusiasm and energy was exhausting, though he wouldn’t have said no. This time he had only two people to handle, three if he counted Ron, since he doubted Harry would leave him behind.

And at least there were no Turks. He shuddered thinking about it. Once, Tseng had told him that he felt like he was running a giant daycare. Sephiroth had compassion. Sometimes he had the same feeling. It had vaguely calmed down after Genesis's desertion, on his side at least.

After the meal, they went back to the exploration of the castle. Sephiroth had asked if there was a map, but the children had explained that exploring Hogwarts was considered a rite of passage, according to older students. Another thing he did not really want to attend was the Quidditch matches. It was not really his idea of fun, rushing on flying brooms while being attacked by enchanted cannonballs. Hermione shared his opinion, but Harry still had fun playing, despite the fact that one of his matches ended in a stay in the infirmary because of Lockhart.

He resolved to look at the subject of the House Elves. If he could understand why Dobby was still serving his master, maybe he could do something.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Harry, who was pulling on his sleeve to get his attention. He was looking ahead, and Sephiroth realized there was  _ another _ harassment situation going on. Seriously, it was too much to ask teachers to do their job? Annoyed, he strode toward the children,  girls this time. Lifting them in the air, he noticed that one of them was of Asian descent (Wutainese in his time), while the other, a redhead, was probably of this country. He glared at them.

“It seemed to me that I have been clear at lunch. Maybe you want us to go see your Head of House?”

“It's Professor Flitwick,” Hermione said, glaring at the two girls.

“No!” Protested the Asian.

“So leave her in peace,” Sephiroth ordered, putting them back down. “I'm willing to let it pass for  _ this _ time.”

The girls hurried away, terrified. Little by little, Hogwarts was realizing that there was now someone who would not tolerate harassment in its hallways. However, habits were hard to break, and it would take time for the message to get into everyone's mind.

His gaze fell on the strangest girl he ever saw. Her long, ashen blond hair was tied behind her back by a pink ribbon, excruciatingly familiar. Her grey eyes had a dreamy expression, her strangeness accentuated by the radish-shaped earrings she wore, and the collar of corks around her neck. She offered him a dreamy smile.

“Thanks for your help.”

“It was a pleasure, Miss...?”

“Lovegood, Luna Lovegood,” she replied in the same dreamy tone as the rest. “It's nice to see the Swords and their Sheath walking again for the protection of the world.”

She then merrily skipped away, while the other three looked at her with varying degrees of bewilderment. Silence reigned for a long time, before Harry summarized the general thought.

“That was weird”

“You'll tell me,” Sephiroth murmured, puzzled. “Do you know her Harry?”

“Not at all. All I can say is that they were all in Ravenclaw. Other than that, nothing. And you, Hermione?”

“Same. Do you think she was talking about Genesis and Angeal?” Hermione asked, having a flash of inspiration.

Sephiroth paused on hearing that, and began to think. Strangely, what Hermione said was sound. Did that mean Zack too? In this case...  _ She _ may have been reincarnated too. The question, in whom? And the others? He held back a laugh as he imagined Zack reincarnated as a dog.  _ Nah, maybe not anyway. But the Puppy reincarnated as a dog, it would be pure gold. _

oOo

Far away, in a prison in the middle of the sea, a large emaciated black dog sneezed violently, before changing position to try to get warmer. Provided he does not catch a cold. Nobody would help him. And if he dies... he wouldn’t be able to help Harry.

oOo

They then continued on their way, continuing to explore. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, and they went down to dinner without incident. At the table, they found a Ginny who had got some colors back. The presence of her brothers had obviously done her a lot of good, but when Sephiroth questioned them, he learned that no one had organized an checkup with a healer. He frowned. Okay, maybe their family was poor, and maybe they were reluctant to accept help, but still!

He sighed. Their situation reminded him of Angeal. He himself had been poor, but proud, sometimes too proud to accept help. And let's not talk about Genesis, he thought, snorting. He may have calmed down after their first trip, but he was too proud for his own good, from his point of view. Sephiroth could not really talk, but it was his education the problem.  _ She _ told them that it was normal to cry or to get help when you could not do everything yourself. And it took a lot more courage than the other way around

He closed his eyes, sorrow and despair threatening to overwhelm him. He pushed them back without mercy, it was not the moment. He was not a hothead like Genesis to the point of suicide when she died, but that did not mean he had not suffered. He wanted to honor her memory.

McGonagall walk to them, pulling him from his thoughts. Apparently, Dumbledore wanted to talk to Harry privately, about what had happened, and how Ginny had been saved. Sephiroth pursed his lips as he heard that. If the old fool imagined he was going to leave Harry out of sight just because he was the school Headmaster, he would stick his finger in his eye to his elbow!

Harry was reassured to see that Sephiroth was getting up to accompany him to Dumbledore's office, even though McGonagall did not look happy.

“Mr. Valentine, the Headmaster wants to talk to Mr. Potter  _ privately _ .”

“Too bad for him,” Sephiroth replied, “but it's out of the question that I leave Harry alone with anyone until I'm sure of their intentions, with the exception of Hermione. That includes you, the Headmaster, and just about every teacher here.”

The Transfiguration teacher looked a little miffed, but a look at Sephiroth told her that trying to argue was like trying to get past the gargoyle leading to Albus' office without a password. A endeavor doomed to fail. She strode to Albus' office, her back stiffened with annoyance.

Sephiroth massaged his temples, following the movement. Back when he left the Chamber of Secrets, he had to shut down his ability to see magic, otherwise he couldn’t work. The school was so  _ saturated _ with pure magic and spells that allowed it to function that the migraine had threatened to render him inoperative. Fortunately, he did not need a lot of time to do that.

During the day, he had done tests to see how long he could hold. Verdict: five minutes max. And again, hardly. At the end of the five minutes, he already had a ragged headache, which had thankfully dissipated fairly quickly. This ability would therefore be used sparingly, if necessary as in a fight or that kind of thing. But by activating it now, he could see spells on McGonagall. Impossible to say exactly which, he hadn’t had enough time. However, something told him that it was compulsions, from the little he could see.

Something told him that he would quickly hate the Headmaster, especially if he persisted in wanting to send Harry back to his torturers. It reminded him too much Shinra Sr, mixed with Hojo on the side (less sadistic). But he clearly did  _ not _ have Harry's well-being in mind. If he has, then he was a Chocobo.

They finally arrived in front of the gargoyle, and he raised an eyebrow at the password. He may be addicted to sugar, but this treat just did not make him want to try. Frankly,  _ who _ would want to eat a candy called COCKROACH? He shivered in disgust, before looking up at the stairs moving alone with interest. It reminded him of the one they had used to leave the Chamber, except that this one was spiraling up.

Minerva knocked on the door before opening it, motioning for Harry and Sephiroth to enter. Albus raised his head as he heard them, before frowning at the sight of the warrior, the twinkle of his eyes diminishing. He had hoped to talk to Harry privately, and perhaps use some compulsions to convince him to leave his bodyguard behind. Obviously, this plan was already useless. However, he had taken advantage of the fact that they had explored the castle in the day to place some Portkeys on Harry's belongings, mostly his Muggle clothings. He had cautiously programmed them to activate on the morning of the return day by the Hogwarts Express, but  _ before _ the departure.

This way, if he managed to keep Sephiroth in his office long enough, Harry would be whisked away to his uncle and aunt without him being able to do anything, and even if the silver-haired man knew how to Apparate, he had never been to Privet Drive. So he could not go quickly. If he could find the place. And the house where Harry lived in the summer was so full of spells that he would have a hard time accessing them.

Snape frowned as he saw the warrior enter. Fabulous. He had just made the decision to avoid him that he was already confronted with him. Too bad, Albus insisted he be here, not for him to do anything. He cared about his life. He shuddered when Sephiroth met his eyes, feline eyes of an acid green meeting his own black as ink. No, trying to stand up to him was doomed to failure. And he was not suicidal.

“Mr. Valentine,” Albus sighed in the tone of a disappointed grandfather, “It seemed to me that I had said I wanted to talk to Harry in private.”

“And as I said to Professor McGonagall,” Sephiroth retorted dryly, “It's out of the question for me to leave Harry alone with anyone until I'm sure of their intentions. It includes you, and  _ even more _ , Snape. You want to talk to Harry? This will be  _ in my presence _ , and that's final.”

Albus sighed, continuing to project his innocent old grandfather's personality. Inwardly, however, he was fuming with anger, and only his mastery of Occlumency permitted him to continue. His plans were all falling apart one after the other because of this individual.

He tried to question Harry on the diary, but without success. The shock he felt when he heard that it was  _ Sephiroth _ who had destroyed the Horcrux left him speechless for a moment.  _ How? _ Normally, there were only two ways of destroying these things: Fiendfyre, and, as Salazar Basilisk Slytherin herself had said, the venom of the mythical snake. He did  _ not _ want to believe that Salazar Slytherin was not a Dark Lord like Esmeralda (the Basilisk's name) had said. It had to be something to lower Harry's guard.

Yet... if it were true, the attacks should not resume. And he had already interviewed Ginny, but the fact that she fainted when she saw the giant snake had not allowed her to get much information. She had, however, confirmed the part according to which the diary had been destroyed, since she had survived. If it had not been the case, she would have died.

Harry couldn’t tell him anything about how Sephiroth had destroyed the Horcrux, partly because he did not see what he had done. And the silver-haired warrior refused to say how he'd done it.

Sephiroth was far from stupid. Had he been in full possession of his faculties during the fight against AVALANCHE, things would have ended very differently. Reveal one of his assets to someone who was likely to be an enemy? No way. He had not become a General by being educated to be an idiot. Nor to lose his temper. But by Minerva, the Headmaster was gently getting on his last nerve. He had learned to control his emotions and not get angry, but how much did he want to get pissed at the old wizard.

Dumbledore refused to give up, he was worse than a Nibel Wolf with a bone. In the end, Sephiroth cut across him, annoyed.

“Listen, I do  _ NOT _ intend to tell you how I did it. So stop insisting. And unless you give me an  _ EXCELLENT _ reason for him to go back to these… animals, and even then, he will  _ NEVER _ go back there. We will only go if he wants to retrieve belongings of sentimental value, and that's it.”

Albus pursed his lips. He did not want to reveal immediately why he was forcing Harry to return to Privet Drive, and if he could avoid talking about the Blood Wards (he was sure that Sephiroth would see the flaws in this reasoning immediately), he preferred to do it. Knowing that Sephiroth had been a General, he probably did not reach that rank by being stupid, far from it. And tactical reasoning being important, he was sure that the warrior could unveil all his machinations without major trouble.

So when Sephiroth got up and gently pushed Harry to follow him, he did not try to hold them back. The boy had avoided his gaze throughout the interview, and Albus wondered if Sephiroth had told him about the basics of Legilimency. He had not tried to get into the silverette's mind, taking into account Severus' warnings, so he was missing information.

The latter had studied the situation carefully. It was not because he did not intervene that he remained inactive. And from what he could observe, the relationship between the two, although still in its infancy, was clearly of the protector/protected type, or perhaps big brother/little brother. In any case, Sephiroth was clearly determined to protect the Potter offspring. He shuddered as he imagined the Dark Lord trying to pick on Potter. He had no trouble visualizing the blood and limbs flying if he could raise his hand on the brat. He resolved to Apparate as soon as possible if the situation ever occurred. Surviving the Dark Lord's anger was possible, especially knowing he was the only Potions Master in the organization. Survive the Nightmare’s rage? No. In any case he did not see any way. If not saving the brat.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth was coming down with Harry, heading for the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry was tired of all the walking he had done today, and he was anxiously waiting for the moment to go to bed. They had just turned a corner, when they fell on the last person that Harry would have thought to see here, Malfoy Sr. The latter was advancing with the arrogance of those who thought they were allowed all, and Dobby was following him in a hurry, his body wrapped in bandages, his face ravaged by abject terror.

Harry froze, shocked. What was he doing there? A light bulb went off in Sephiroth’s mind, connecting different events. Dobby coming to warn Harry of great danger (accidentally putting him in even more danger), the House Elf's attempts to force Harry out of school, the "battle" in Flourish and Blotts between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley, where Lucius had to slip the diary into Ginny's books. Dobby had gone against the link that bound him to this... individual, to try to save Harry.

His eyes narrowed. Lucius Malfoy reminded him horribly of Shinra Sr. The same tendency to strut and throw his money around (according to Harry), and especially, the same contempt for the lives of others. What was he doing here?

His eyes fell on Dobby, who pointed to Malfoy, before slapping his head. Apparently he was trying to get him a message, but he already knew it. His attention was again drawn to the wizard, who offered him a smile as false as that of Scarlet.

“So, you are the famous Sephiroth Valentine.”

“And you are Lucius Malfoy,” replied Sephiroth flatly. “What do you want?”

His dry tone clearly indicated that he did not appreciate his interlocutor, and a flash of anger passed in his eyes. He controlled himself, however, and Sephiroth was slightly impressed by that. At least he was smarter than his son.

“I heard about you. As far as I heard, you are not an ally of this old crazy muggle lover, are you?”

“And what makes you think that I might want to associate myself with criminals and murderers of your kind?” scoffed Sephiroth, looking at him coldly. “You, who bribe people with money tainted with innocent blood? Just because they are different?”

Malfoy Sr. could not hold back the flash of anger in his expression this time, but quickly regained control.

“You are probably referring to these rumors that I would have been a Death Eater? Come on, these are just rumors. Everyone knows that I was under the Imperius curse. I have never been sentenced for that. I am a respected member of this community.”

“But of course,” replied Sephiroth, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “And my ass is what, a Chocobo’s?”

Harry looked up to look at him, surprised. It was the second time he heard him being rude, whereas usually he was always polite and used more sustained language than anything else. He wondered if it was a sign that Sephiroth was getting angry, but he was not really rude to the Headmaster earlier.

His gaze went back to Dobby, who was still pointing at Lucius, before banging his head, and repeating these actions in a loop. Suddenly Harry understood. He nodded to Dobby and he pulled back in a corner, wringing his ears to punish himself for what he had done.

“You do not know how Ginny came into this diary, Mr. Malfoy?” asked Harry.

Lucius Malfoy turned to him.

“Why should I know how this little fool went about finding this diary?” he said.

“Because you gave it to her,” Harry replied. “It happened at Flourish and Blotts. You took her old book on Transfiguration and you slipped the diary in it, isn’t it?”

He saw Mr Malfoy clench his fists.

“You would have to proved it," he hissed.

Sephiroth offered him a shark-like smile, full of teeth and malice, and Lucius took a step back, a long, cold shiver running down his spine. Sephiroth was just terrifying like that, and he wondered if he wasn’t really the legendary Nightmare.

“Oh, no one will be able to,” he said, giving him a disturbing smile. “It's impossible, now that I've erased Riddle from the diary. But on the other hand, Lucius, I advise you to no longer distribute Lord Voldemort’s old school supplies. Because if some of them fell back into innocent hands again, I think Arthur Weasley would do anything to prove that they belonged to you... And I'd be happy to help him,” Sephiroth purred in a dangerous tone.

Lucius Malfoy stood motionless for a moment, and Harry could clearly see his hand twitching, as if itching to pull out his wand. But eventually, he turned to his house elf.

“We're leaving, Dobby!”

Sephiroth's hand sprang like a snake, closing on the filthy pillowcase the Elf wore, tearing a terrified squeal from him, when he passed by. Dobby was shaking with terror under his hand, but he ignored it. His eyes shone lightly, making him even more disturbing, and he distractedly admired the elf's courage, which managed not to piss himself. However, his focus was entirely on the bond between Dobby and Lucius Malfoy, who looked at him in disbelief, not understanding what he was doing.

Finally, he understood how the link worked, and, with his other hand,  _ pinched _ the thread of magic that supported the bond, severing it. Dobby's eyes widened in an almost impossible anatomical way, before he gently put him back on the floor.

Lucius glared at him before turning away.

“Come on, Dobby. I said  _ come _ !” He barked when the latter did not seem to hear him.

Dobby, too busy examining his hands, does not react. Finally, he looked up at Sephiroth.

“Mister Nightmare… has freed Dobby?” He asked in a tone halfway between wonder and terror.

Lucius froze, before displaying a scornful expression.

“Ridiculous. The only way to free an Elf is to give him cloths. Everyone knows it. And since  _ I _ did not do that…”

Sephiroth laughs softly, turning to him.

“As everyone  _ knows _ you aren’t a Death Eater? You do not know  _ anything _ about magic. You forgot that there are certain rules that shouldn’t be broken. You have  _ abused _ your house elf, thereby damaging one of the terms of the Covenant that unites the Elves and Humans.”

“Really?” Lucius hissed. “And which one is it you think?”

“Protect the Elf. By abusing him, you have sufficiently damaged the link so that I could cut it easily. If you had not done it... if you had respected your part of the contract... I would not have been able to break it for him. Even if Harry could have managed to free him, by tricking you to give him a garment.”

Lucius Malfoy froze, staring at the elf, then at him, and back at Dobby. For a moment, Sephiroth thought he was going to rush at him. He was waiting impatiently for that. Humiliating this… individual would have been a pleasure, since, from what he had understood, once deprived of their wands, wizards were useless. He took a mental note to teach Harry how to wield a sword. It could always serve him.

Finally, Lucius Malfoy gave him a look of pure hatred, before turning on his heels in a whirlwind of expensive cloak. Sephiroth relaxed, letting the spell that he had quietly prepared in his right hand dissipate. He had always liked to cast spells with that hand, because it allowed him to use his left hand to wield Masamune. With a sigh, he cut off his ability to see magic... but not before seeing Dobby recreate his bond, with Harry this time.

He rolled his eyes, praying Minerva to make his life  _ easier _ . At least, if Dobby were bound to Harry, he might not take such… drastic measures to save him. At least, he hoped. He noticed that Dobby was watching him with a mixture of respect and fear, and he sighed.

“Dobby,” Sephiroth said softly, making him flinch. “I have nothing against you wanting to protect Harry, but in the future, if you think he's in danger, come see me first, okay? I'm here to protect him now.”

Dobby frantically nodded, looking barely relieved. Harry, on the other hand, looked much more relieved than the elf, and he prayed earnestly for Dobby to obey that. He suddenly thought of something.

“I still have a question for you, Dobby,” Harry said, the elf bringing his attention back to him. “You told me that this whole story had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? So…”

“It was a clue, sir,” said Dobby, as if it were obvious. “Dobby gave yous a clue. The name of the Dark Lord could be freely pronounced before the name changed. Yous understand?”

“That's right,” said Harry in a weak voice. “Well, I have to go now. The day has been long, and I still have stuff to do…”

Dobby nodded with much more enthusiasm, and disappeared in a last bang. Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Sephiroth could understand it. Dobby's devotion to Harry was remarkable, although exaggerated. He could also understand that Dobby prefers to serve Harry than someone like Lucius. Speaking of that... Sephiroth thought back to what the Bloody Baron had said to Harry.

“Harry…”

The boy looked at him curiously.

“Yes, Sephiroth?”

“I think you should ask Hogwarts to reactivate the Code of Conduct,” said the silverette thoughtfully. “In my opinion, this should help to calm the bullies who seem to reign in the school. If they realize that their behavior is the reason why their house loses points... maybe they will calm down?”

Harry blinked, surprised, and pondered what Sephiroth said. Indeed, he was not wrong. But, would that be enough with Malfoy? Looking around and seeing no one, he decided to try it.

“Hogwarts, could you reactivate the Code of Conduct please?” He asked, trying not to feel ridiculous when addressing empty air.

Even knowing that the school had developed a form of consciousness, he could not help feeling ridiculous enough by saying that without addressing someone. To his amazement, a bell rang somewhere in the school. The slightly crystalline sound echoed briefly, and a portrait not far away burst out laughing.

“Ah, that's nice to hear! It's been  _ so long _ since I could duck points from those idiots Slytherins! Frankly, their behavior has deserves slaps for a good  _ century _ , minimum! I am ashamed of what my old house has become! Thank you, my boy!”

Still cackling, the portrait went to the side of his frame, and disappeared, going in another painting. Harry watched him slip from portrait to portrait, a feeling of worry running through him briefly. Well, too late to regret what he did. He looked towards another portrait, who was rubbing her hands with glee. He asked shyly.

“The Headmaster isn’t going to know that it was me who did this at least?”

The portrait, a plump woman with ashen blond hair, looked at him with a touch of surprise, before offering him a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, honey, if you do not want to be talked about (Harry nodded furiously), then none of the painting will tell the Headmaster anything. The loyalty of paintings goes primarily to the school, then to the heirs of the Founders, and only then to the Headmaster in place. I guess you do not want him to be replaced?”

Harry shook his head.

“As long as Riddle is walking free,” he said grimly, “it's better he stays. Once he's no longer a threat…”

The woman nodded with a blood thirsty smile, which made Harry shudder.

“Very well, my dear. Hogwarts will tolerate him until this little upstart Riddle has kicked the bucket. After that…” she cackled. “Do you also want the school to scatter the Board of Governors? Given that they were not part of Hogwarts’ creation, she doesn’t recognize them as valid.”

Harry hesitated a moment, then looked at Sephiroth, hoping his elder would have an idea. The Ex-General rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then looked at his puppy.

“I think that for the moment anyway, it would be better not to touch it. It would be too risky for them to catch on. On the other hand, I would recommend that Malfoy Sr. be sent away. It may calm his offspring.”

Harry nodded, and looked at the portrait of the woman, who was laughing sadistically.

“Oh yes, that would calm him down! I also believe that this silly little snake will dig the biggest hole in which his house will end. Frankly, he does not have one-tenth of his father's intelligence and cunning, not to mention his charisma. He relies solely on his name and his family's money. He has ambition, of course, but that's all. And what an idea to offer ONLY Nimbus 2001 to the Slytherin team. These are brooms designed for speed! They are perfect for the Seekers, but not for the other posts,” she sighed shaking her head. “And let’s not talk about brooms used for beginners,” she added exasperatedly. “I don’t know by what miracle there has not been a fatal accident yet!”

Sephiroth nodded as he heard that. He would have to see that with Harry in the future. For now, he decided, seeing him yawn, it was time for him to go to sleep. Gently, he caught the boy's attention and guided him to the Common Room. He had noticed that Harry flinched every time he touched him or someone raised his voice, and he was well aware that these were consequences of what the Dursleys had done to him. Oh yes, if he ever fell on them, he doubted to be able to restrain himself from massacring them.

Arriving in Gryffindor's tower, he looked for Hermione. Seeing her in a corner, her books spread around her, he walked in her direction, Harry following him obediently like a little puppy. And now he was in Angeal's place. At least Harry was not as hyperactive as Zack.

Drawing Hermione's attention this time, he asked her if he could borrow Lockhart's books. The latter, visibly surprised, accepted, and went back to her dormitory to go and get them. He thanked her, assuring her that he would return them the next morning. Sephiroth sat down at a table, Harry next to him, and borrowed quill and ink from the boy while he sat down to do his homework.

Neither was disturbed for the rest of the evening, and Sephiroth helped Harry store his belongings before going back to the dormitory, the books in one hand and his notes in the other. Just when Harry was wondering where Sephiroth was going to sleep, opening the dormitory door, he saw that an extra bed had been added to the dormitory... and was it him, or had the room widened slightly?

He blinked, tired, then shrugged, deciding not to ask questions. He prepared for the night as usual, and slipped under the covers, pulling the draperies. Like Dean and Seamus, after realizing that Ron and Neville snored like lumberjacks, he had sought a spell of silence, to place on the curtains. Too tired by his weekend, he forgot to tell Sephiroth, falling asleep like a rock.

The latter had settled against the head of his new bed, his notes beside him, and he continued to read the books, stopping from time to time to write. So far, he had already found two occurrences where he would have been to two different places at the same time. And too far apart for him to reach them by Apparating, even by making several stops. That, plus the so-called spell that would return human form to a werewolf... and he was a Chocobo in that case.

After a while, he finally noticed the snoring sounds of Ron and Neville. A bit bothered, he raised his right hand without interrupting his reading, and threw a Silence in their directions. The silence returned, he continued as if nothing had happened. He continued to work all night, alternating between the different books. Yes, clearly, between what Harry had told him and what he could read, Lockhart was an incompetent moron. He began to seriously suspect that other people had done these feats, and that Lockhart had appropriated them.

It was around dawn that he finished, and he laid his conclusions on his knees, leaning against the wood, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was even worse than he had feared. Moreover, if no one had come to attack him on trial (or the equivalent), it meant that he had probably erased the memories of the real perpetrators of these acts. His dangerousness was lower than he thought, in terms of combat anyway, but about education... it was even worse than he thought.

With a sigh, he took his notes and read his conclusions carefully. He nodded when he finished. If with that, it didn’t push the students to get rid of this incompetent... It only remained for him to hope that Hogwarts would help him. Raising his head, he gently called the only school elf whose name he knew.

“Tippy, can you come? I will not hurt you. I need you to do something for me.”

After a few minutes, when he thought he would have to fend for himself or ask Harry to call Dobby, a *pop* sounded softly, Tippy appearing on his bed. The elf was shaking like a leaf, but he still came. Sephiroth offered him a reassuring smile, which seemed to calm him very lightly.

“What can Tippy do for Mister Nightmare?” Asked the elf bravely.

“Could you copy this and post it in all the common rooms, please?” Sephiroth asked softly, speaking in a low voice to avoid waking the children around him. “I would also like to know if Hogwarts can make sure that nobody can take them out or damage them.”

Tippy blinked, surprised, and took the pages hesitantly, looking at them. He then looked at Sephiroth, visibly perplexed.

“Why does Mister Nightmare do that?”

“Because he’s a threat to the children's future,” Sephiroth said softly, his eyes glowing in the darkness of the dormitory as a result of his contained anger. “If he continues like this, he may pose a threat to Harry in particular. With Voldemort walking free, if he doesn’t know how to fight…”

Tippy nodded.

“Hogwarts will help. Master Harry is the only Heir now. The others do not know.”

“Does Hogwarts know who it is?”

“No, Mister Nightmare. Hogwarts does not know that there is an Heir unless the Heir comes to school. Master Harry is the only one at the moment. Will Mister Nightmare protect them if they come to school?”

Sephiroth nodded.

“The management of the school causes me serious concern, honestly. I do not know what the Headmaster is playing at, but I don’t think he has the safety of children in mind or even their education. In any case... can you do that quickly?”

Tippy nodded.

“Tippy will have it ready before the students get up. Tippy... wants to thank Mister Nightmare for protecting Master Harry.”

Sephiroth shook his head with a slight amusement.

“If I woke up, Tippy, it's because Harry begged someone to protect him. If his enemies want to lay a hand on him, they will have to get over my dead body first.”

The elf left with a relieved air, and Sephiroth sighed. Massaging his forehead, he leaned thoughtfully against the head of the bed. It was too late (or too early, depending on the point of view) to try to sleep a bit. Finally, now that he knew Harry was pretty safe, he could sleep the next night. He kept thinking about what he would do in the near future until it was time for the children to get up.

_ To be continued… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil cackles*  
> Yes, they sow the wind, and now, they’re going to reap the hurricane!-Fumseck_73


	4. Reap the Hurricane

Arriving in the Great Hall, they were greeted by an impressive hubbub. The biggest noise was coming from the Slytherin table, which looked panicked. Harry looked at Percy, puzzled.

“Percy? What is happening?”

The latter shook his head, visibly shocked.

“Slytherin would have lost more than a hundred points between last night and this morning. Nobody understands how or why, and Snape is in a foul mood. He can’t get the points up. Ravenclaw also took a hit in the standings, and even we lost points. The only ones who have hardly moved, are the Hufflepuff.”

Harry exchanged a surprised look with Sephiroth, shocked by the effectiveness of the Code of Conduct. He thought Slytherin would lose points, yes, but to that extent? The situation was even worse than Sephiroth thought. Obviously, the punishments had never been applied, and the students had come to think that they could do what they wanted in the school, without suffering any consequences. A slight amused smile curled Sephiroth's lips, making those who saw him shudder. Things had changed in the school, and the children were just beginning to realize it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a grumble from Harry.

“And it's off again for another ride,” Harry mumbled as Malfoy approached, looking furious.

“Potter! What did you do to get my father removed from the board?” The blond exclaimed furiously, spitting on Harry.

“Nothing!” Harry protested.

“Do you think I'll believe you Potter? My father comes here yesterday, and in the evening, he gets an owl to tell him he's fired from the board!”

“And why is it my fault?” Protested the boy, stepping back to get closer to Sephiroth. “I don’t have the power to do that!”

Malfoy stared at him, squinting, fuming, forgetting Sephiroth's presence next to him.

“Watch it, Potter,” Malfoy growled. “One of these days, you'll end up like your mudblood mother. Too bad your father has lowered with such filth, the line of Potters was…”

“And it will be another 20 points from Slytherin,” said a lugubrious voice, interrupting the blond, and startling everyone around. “It seems that you  _ still haven’t understood _ , Mister Malfoy, that certain terms are  _ no longer _ tolerated in this school.”

People turned to the Bloody Baron, looking at him with wide eyes. Even the teachers were speechless. From living memories, rare were those who had heard him speak, and it was usually to control Peeves. Hearing him remove points from his own house was an event never seen before, just like his words.

“I would also gladly have gone to see your Head of House, for a detention, but as it seems that he didn’t decided to punish you as he should, I would be happy to withdraw points every time you insult the others. The Code of Conduct existed for a reason in the past, so that students would respect each other, at least on the surface. No one can stop you from thinking what you want, but  _ do not express it _ . Now, are you going to sit down, or do I  _ still _ have to withdraw points for your unacceptable behavior? At this pace, you’ll be the only one responsible for your house ending in the negative.”

For a moment, Harry thought Malfoy was still going to protest, and lose points for his house. Nott and another student from Slytherin arrived at that time (Harry was pretty sure it was Zabini), and they grabbed the albino, dragging him to their table.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Maybe now he could have some peace on Malfoy's side. A look at the teachers' table showed him an animated discussion, probably under a spell of silence so as not to be heard by the students. Dumbledore seemed to be divided between anger and another indefinable emotion (fear? Panic? Something of the sort anyway), Snape was clearly enraged, Flitwick furious for he did not know what reason (Luna's harassment maybe?), and McGonagall seemed ready to spit fire. Only Sprout was calm, and even a little smug apparently. That was normal, her house was the only one to have lost almost no points.

Shrugging, Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table for breakfast. If Sephiroth had not appeared, he might have stuffed himself to make the most of the meals from the school before being locked up again at the Dursleys. Here he could relax, knowing that he would never go back there.

Sephiroth noticed that no one in three of the houses had yet reacted to what he had made posted in the common rooms. Ravenclaw was the quietest house, almost all the students bending over scrolls, furiously noting something. Regularly, he could see them exchange their scrolls, clearly comparing their notes. He smiles with amusement. Obviously, the house of the scholars was clearly up to their reputation.

A look beside him showed that Hermione was in the same state, scribbling furiously on a parchment, sometimes pulling out a book to compare something. She seemed at once furious and on the verge of tears, as if she felt betrayed. Shaking his head, he gently put his hand on her shoulder, making her jump. He caught her surprised eyes and gently spoke to her.

“The books are written by humans, Hermione. And like all humans, authors are not infallible. They can lie.”

The girl nodded, still clearly on the verge of tears, and began to write furiously again. Sephiroth shook his head again, straightening up. He almost had the impression of a Genesis having discovered that Loveless was a fake. He sighed. He really missed his friends. Genesis tirades on Loveless, Angeal's on honors, and even Zack's enthusiasm. He would never have said it out loud, but in spite of the Puppy tiring side, his constant enthusiasm had sometimes been good for him when he was not feeling good. His joy of life was a balm to his wounded heart.

oOo

Harry would never have thought he would see that. Hermione calling a professor an incompetent moron, and impostor! And she was not the only one. The whole Ravenclaw house had followed shortly to demand Lockhart's departure from the school, and the repayment of the books they had bought. The other houses had finally followed the movement, writing to their parents to support their requests.

Owls had literally invaded the Great Hall at meals, all heading for a Lockhart who had quickly lost his delighted air by the flood of invectives he was obviously receiving. And this without counting the possible Howlers, claiming the refund of books purchased. Some had even challenged him to duel for having usurped the exploits of their loved ones!

Finally, the so-called expert in the forces of evil had fled, apparently not wanting to be confronted by angry parents/relatives of the victims, who all knew he was currently at Hogwarts.

Harry had been relieved. Lockhart's attention was really starting to give him bad vibes, and he was almost certain that it was only a matter of time before Sephiroth did something definitive like killing or mutilating him for life. And he himself began to no longer be disturbed by the idea.

The course that he "assured" had received the worst score of all exams apparently, and most students were invited to redo them in the summer if they wanted to get a better grade. Harry had signed for that, thinking that Sephiroth would be more proud of him than if he did like Ron and decided to do nothing.

Verifying that he had everything in his trunk, Harry put a set of his muggle clothes under his wizard's robe, carefully choosing those in the best condition. They were all too big for him of at least five sizes, if not more, and worn out for some. He could feel Sephiroth's disapproving look in front of his things, but his uniform would not fit in the muggle world. He knew that the disapproval would be directed at the Dursleys, but it still made him feel uncomfortable.

He sighed, before putting his hand on what he was looking for, his pouch containing his wizard currency. There was still a lot in it, but he made his decision. He just hoped that Sephiroth wouldn’t mind about it in the future. Now, to convince Ron to accept.

“Harry, I cannot accept!” Protested his friend.

“Ron, for the last time, it's  _ not _ charity,” Harry said, exasperated. “I  _ know _ that as long as your wand does not explode, your parents will not buy you a new one. And even if they do, they will have a hard time paying for it. I don’t care if you give me the money back tomorrow, in a month, or never. I do it as a  _ friend _ . Nothing more!”

“But…” hesitated Ron. “What if my mother say something?”

“If she says something, tell her that it's my way of asking forgiveness for the fact that it was damaged in the first place. Since it's to stop me from going to Hogwarts that Dobby closed the wall, it's my fault. So accept, damn it!”

Harry was sorry to be a little snappish with Ron, but he could not help but being stressed.

In the past month, he had become accustomed to the almost constant presence of Sephiroth. The latter left him alone only when he went to the bathroom, or slept, and even then, he was always in the vicinity. Harry had been uncomfortable at first, not used to having someone always present, then, to his surprise, he quickly got used to it. He felt reassured when the silverette was there, because he felt that nothing could happen to him as long as he was there. But here, he had gone to talk to the Director again. The latter seemed to take pleasure in calling him randomly, and Harry was almost convinced that it was only a matter of time before he snapped and got angry with the Headmaster. He did not really want to be present when that happens, he was almost sure there would be blood everywhere if it happened.

Harry had just put his pouch in Ron's hands, using the surprise effect and insisting that his friend buy a new wand, when he suddenly felt like a hook had been pushed right behind his belly button, and that it was used to make it spin like a top. He was yank straight ahead in a swirl of colors and a hissing sound similar to that of the wind. And suddenly…

His feet fell brutally on the floor. He collapsed on something hard, completely unprepared, and felt something shatter beneath him. Cries echoed around him, and he felt his stomach drop. Oh no... don’t tell him he was…

“FREAK!” The voice of his uncle roared, and he began to tremble. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

At Privet Drive, in the house of his uncle and aunt. Slowly, he raised his head, and saw the purple face of his uncle. Part of him had always hoped that he would die of an attack when he was like that, but it never happened. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aunt Petunia and Marge, both of whom looked as angry as Vernon, Marge almost the same color as him. A growl told him that Ripper was there too, even though he had not attacked him yet.

A violent kick brought his attention back to his uncle, taking his breath away. Vernon started punching him with his fists and feet, not even giving him time to answer. Marge also threw Ripper at him, and Harry counted as a blessing the fact that Dudley was not there. He would not have been surprised if he joined the festivities of beating him.

Tears began to flow silently down his cheeks. Sephiroth did not even knew where he lived in the summer, he could not come and save him. He had promised that he would look after him…

oOo

Sephiroth was just  _ furious _ . Dumbledore was really starting to get on his nerves with his random interviews to convince him to let Harry go back to his uncle and aunt. The urge to murder was beginning to rise, and he was finding it harder and harder to resist. Voldemort was perhaps without a body, but if the news of the death of the old wizard spread, he doubted that the specter resists the desire to return to England and manages finding a new body.

He stopped in the corridor with an exasperated sigh, and rubbed his face to try to regain his composure. He did not want to scare Harry by returning to him while he was still angry. The poor child had already experienced enough suffering like that. Sephiroth ignored the whispers of the portraits, who watched him with a little fear, working to regain his composure. He felt that Dumbledore was cooking up something, it was obvious. The question was, what?

He was still thinking about it, lost in thought, when he saw a brown missile heading towards him. An alarm went off in his mind when he saw Hermione in tears, and he knew something had happened to Harry. He caught Hermione when she hit him, and remarked distractedly that she had an impressive strength for her age. Sobs prevented her from speaking, so he slowly relaxed his grip, before bending down and gently shaking her shoulders.

“Hermione, take a deep breath and try to calm down to explain what's going on.”

The girl tried to calm down, hiccuping, but she could not stop crying.

“It's Harry... he's... he's  _ gone _ ! Ron…”

“He saw what happened?” Sephiroth asked, feeling the fury rise back to his previous level.

Hermione frantically nodded.

“I... I went up to the boys' dormitory,” she sniffed. “I... wanted to give my phone number to Harry... so he could call me... And Ron said... he was gone... probably... because of a Portkey.”

Sephiroth felt his aura escape control. If Harry had a single scratch, he was going to _ spread _ Dumbledore's bowels into his office. He did not even notice that the portraits were fleeing their frames in front of his fury, nor that the suits of armors followed the movement. He jumped, however, when Hermione's arms closed around his neck, surprising him. He would have rather expected her to flee. Reflexively, he closed his arms around her, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.  _ She _ too had always had the gift of calming him when he began to lose his temper. His emotions were everywhere, and he forced himself to regain his senses.

Quickly using a Wutaïean meditation technique to refocus, he regained control of his emotions. A calm mind was always sharper and more dangerous than an angry spirit, who was also quick to make mistakes. With one last breath, he gently pulled away from Hermione's embrace, almost calm. Keeping his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a slight smile.

“Don’t worry, I'm going to rescue him.”

“How?” Hermione asked, split between hope and anguish. “You do not even know where he lives!”

“Me no, Dobby, on the other hand…”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, the house elf appeared with a loud bang, wringing his hands.

“Dobby cannot feel Harry Potter, Mister Nightmare. Dobby doesn’t know where he be sent…”

“Dobby,” cut off Sephiroth gently. “Even if you can not feel him, you remember where his house is, do you not?”

Dobby froze, then his ears fell, clearly expressing his embarrassment and shame at not having thought of that.

“But the protections around the house will prevent Dobby from bringing in Mister Nightmare,” protested the elf.

Sephiroth straightened gently with a predatory grace, his aura continuing to fluctuate gently around him.

“Let me take care of the protections, Dobby. I doubt they are in very good condition anyway. You just have to take me outside of them.”

He felt Hermione pull gently on his sleeve, and looked at her. She handed him a piece of paper, which was marked with a series of numbers, and he recognized a phone number. He gently took the paper, and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about Harry, I’ll protect him.”

Tears running down her cheeks, Hermione nodded.

“You will call me when he’s safe? Or even my parents?”

Sephiroth nodded.

“You have my word. Now, let's go Dobby.”

Dobby took his outstretched hand, and Sephiroth seized it without hesitation. Everything then became completely black; a very strong pressure exerted on all the surface of his body; he could no longer breathe, it seemed as if steel loops were encircling his chest; his eyes sank into their sockets and his eardrums seemed to stretch deeper and deeper inside his skull. Then, suddenly…

He took a deep breath, fighting against dizziness and nausea. He still preferred his own teleportation. Ignoring his own discomfort, he quickly looked around, checking the surroundings.

Nobody had apparently heard them arrive. Perfect. He motioned for Dobby to leave, as he activated his magic sight. And he swore heartily between his teeth. The house was literally saturated with spells, all of which were feeding from the same source, and he suspected it was Harry. He decided to focus on those who posed an immediate problem to him, such as the Blood Ward that was on the verge of collapsing. Getting to work, he began cutting the magic threads that supported the spells, dealing first with those who prevented people without magic from remembering the abuses committed under that roof. It was a good thing that he needed all his concentration to analyze the spells, otherwise he would have lost his composure a long time ago.

He had just dismantled a spell that prevented people from hearing what was going on in the house when he heard the cry of pain from a child. Fury invaded him, tinting his vision a sickly green, similar to that of Mako. Ignoring the rest of the spells, which would collapse by themselves once they leave this place, he teleported into the house in a cloud of black smoke, focusing on the presences he could detect through his Scan Materia.

He immediately intercepted the arm of a huge man, even bigger than Palmer had been. And not much smarter, he thought, rolling his eyes when his "opponent" tried to free himself by pulling his arm back. The purple color of the man's face reminded him furiously of the company's former executive. In worse, in every sense of the word. Sephiroth was not even unbalanced by the man's attempts to break free. And he was holding him with his right hand, which was not even his dominant hand.

“WHO ARE YOU!?” Vernon shouted, his face even more purple. “HOW DID YOU ENTERED MY HOUSE!? ARE YOU ONE OF THESE FREAKS!?”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY ADORABLE RIPPER!?” Shrieked Marge, hitting him.

Sephiroth royally ignored Marge, not even feeling the blows she gave him. Masamune was planted in the dog's neck that was biting Harry at the moment he arrived. Eyes narrowed, he stared at Vernon intently, debating whether to kill him or not. A whimper from Harry made him realize that he was suffering, and the smell of blood was too much for him to ignore the distress of his protege. He clenched his fist, easily breaking his opponent's wrist, making him howl with pain and let go of the baseball bat he was holding. He then punched him in the face without hesitation, releasing Masamune, who disappeared automatically a few seconds later. Letting him crumble to the ground, he spun in a fluid motion, and punched Marge in turn. The shock of the overweight siblings falling down briefly shook the ground, and he turned to Petunia, Masamune materializing again in his hand.

She froze in front of the point of the sword, which grazed her cheek, and the feline eyes that looked at her with a cold fury. Sephiroth's eyes were glowing enough to make it visible in the middle of the day, and she swallowed, suddenly terrified. She had always called the wizards Freaks, even when she did not talk about her own nephew, but for the first time she realized she was facing someone who  _ could _ deserve that name. Sephiroth pointed to the sofa with his free hand, his voice as cold as his aura.

“Sit there and  _ don’t move _ . As you can see, I'm  _ not _ in a lenient mood. A misplaced gesture on your part, and I swear that at best, you will join them on the ground. Am I clear?”

Petunia frantically nodded, terrified. For the first time since her last meeting with Snape, she was facing someone who could kill, and especially who would not hesitate a single second to do it. Trembling like a leaf, she did so under the polar gaze of Sephiroth. She saw that the tea spilled on the floor was freezing, and realized that the drop in temperature was not just the result of her imagination.

Sephiroth turned away from her when she was placed behind the sofa, not daring to get closer, banishing Masamune. He was afraid of making a massacre if he watched them too long, and Harry needed emergency care.

The boy was surprised when his uncle started shouting at someone else. And the fact that he had talked about Freaks... did that mean... that Sephiroth was here? That he had found a way to come? Raising his valid arm that he had put on his head to protect himself, he risked a glance in front of him. His eyes fell on a long black leather trench coat, partly hiding boots that seemed to be of the same material. Above, long silver hair fell to the knees. Harry would have started to cry with relief, but could only let out a whimper when trying to move a little, his ribs and arm throbbing horribly. He heard a dry crack, like broken bones, before a fist obviously knocked out his uncle and Aunt Marge, if he judged by the earthquake that followed.

He barely paid attention to the arctic voice of Sephiroth, the pain becoming more and more intense. He hurt almost everywhere, but the worst was really his right arm and his ribs. In comparison, he had almost no pain on the belly. A hand rested on his shoulder, making him flinch, and in spite of himself he moved back. The hand, however, did not leave his shoulder, and he heard the voice of his protector, gentle and soothing when he spoke to him:

“Its alright Harry, I'm here now. You don’t risk anything anymore.”

Harry started to cry when he heard that. For the first time in his life, his prayers for help had been answered. He felt Sephiroth lift him gently, and he clung to his long coat without thinking. The silverette caressed his back gently until he calmed down, and gently put him on an armchair. Part of his mind panicked at the idea of putting blood on the Dursley’s furnitures, the other side telling himself to go to hell. He had spent enough time like that being a slave to the Dursleys, and it was now over. He looked up at Sephiroth, blurred because his glasses were broken. Harry noticed that he seemed to be divided between anger and worry. He finally closed his eyes with a sigh, before opening his eyes and looking at him.

“I'll have to take off your wizard's robe, Harry. I’ll have to call the police, and if you wear it, it may raise unwelcome questions.”

The boy nodded bravely. Sephiroth felt the rage rise as he helped Harry as gently as possible to remove his wizard's robe. The boy had not even made a sound, just crying silently when he had to move his injured arm through the sleeve. What kind of monster teach a child to cry in silence? He had to fight his desire for murder by seeing Harry's condition. It hadn’t taken him that long to rescue him, maybe a quarter of an hour at most, but they had managed to beat him seriously during that time.

He looked at the robe with a frown, wondering what he was going to do with it. Dobby appeared at that moment, drawing a shriek from Petunia. Sephiroth ignored her, and handed the robe to Dobby, asking him to clean it and bring his stuff back as soon as possible. But to wait until they can be recover without being seen.

He then patted Harry cautiously, trying to gain an idea of his injuries. The boy remained bravely silent, hardly flinching when Sephiroth's hands touched his fractures. The latter found at least three broken ribs, and almost certainly two more that were cracked. The arm was clearly broken, not even needing to examine it for that. Once his exam was done, he turned on his Scan Materia to check that Harry didn’t have any internal injuries. He found only a few bruises, nothing dangerous, even in the medium term.

Reassured, he allowed his shoulders to relax. A glance at his back told him that Marge and Vernon were still knocked out, and Petunia had not moved from her place. He had to bandage Harry's leg before calling the police, or he would risk losing too much blood. He gently put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

“I'm going to get something to wrap your wound Harry, I'll be right back.”

Harry nodded, and followed him with his eyes as he walked to the kitchen, avoiding looking at his Aunt Petunia, who seemed to be divided between terror and fury. He could almost feel her hateful look on him, but he didn’t give a fuck anymore. After all she had done to him, her future didn’t even concern him anymore. From his point of view, Sephiroth would be a much better guardian than her.

The silverette came back at that moment, and almost absently kicked Vernon's head, who was starting to stir. The fat walrus returning to the land of unconsciousness, he crouched again in front of Harry, posing the dishcloths he had taken next to him. Delicately, he easily tore the boy's pant leg, revealing the wound. Mopping the blood with one of the tea towels, he felt the anger burning at seeing old bite scars. Harry had told him about it, but it was another thing to see it. He ripped several towels in long strips, and wrapped them around the wound, taking care not to over-tighten.

Once the wound was bandaged, he took a towel and made a scarf, helping Harry to install his broken arm, to relieve the pressure. The grateful expression of the boy made him feel sick. Obviously, it was the  _ first _ time someone had been treating him in his "family" after he was injured. Sephiroth wondered how he had managed so far. He closed his eyes with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. A brief meditation later, almost in control of his emotions, he got up and looked for the phone.

Thanking the Lifestream for knowing how it worked, he grabbed the handset, before marking a pause as he realized he did not know the policy number. Turning his attention to Harry, he gently asked.

“Harry, can you give me the police number please?”

The boy blinked, surprised, then realized that if Sephiroth knew at least the current technology, emergency numbers should not be part of the package. Timidly, he replied.

“It's 999 or 112. Both are easy to remember.”

Sephiroth thanked him with a nod, dialing the number of an assured hand.

“Police office, what is your emergency?” Asked a male voice on the phone, sounding bored despite his professional side.

“I'll need an ambulance at… number 4, Privet Drive,” Sephiroth said, repeating the address Harry gave him, who had picked up some colors. “I would also need police cars to arrest the family living here.”

There was a blank on the other end of the wire, then a keyboard sounds, the operator hammering the keys at full speed.

“The ambulance is on the way, as are the cars. Can you explain the situation?”

“I have a 12-year-old, almost 13, who was nearly beaten to death by his uncle,” growled Sephiroth, kicking Marge's head this time. “Another person, probably his uncle's sister, had sicked her dog at him. I dressed the wound as best I could, but I think I can say that he will need stitches.”

“You’re a medic?” The operator asked without interrupting himself, his tone incredulous.

“No, former SOLDIER, but I had to fend for myself on the battlefield when there were no medics at hand. I have some first aid bases.”

While he was talking, Sephiroth had gone to get a long knife in the kitchen, and on his way back into the living room, he stuck it in Ripper's neck, making sure to hide the wound created by Masamune. He ignored Petunia's soft wails of disgust mixed with terror, straightening up to return to stand next to Harry.

“I... see,” said the operator hesitantly. “Help is on the way, they should not be long now.”

“Tell them to hurry,” Sephiroth replied, looking coldly at Petunia, his voice unnaturally calm. “Because I don’t know how long I will resist the urge to  _ murder _ them.”

He hung up before the operator could say anything, looking coldly at Petunia, who squirmed under his scornful gaze.

“That you didn’t want Harry, I can conceive, intellectually speaking. That you don’t like him… that can pass. But that you mistreat him? That you starve him to try to kill him? That, no, I don’t understand or accept anymore.”

Petunia opened her mouth furiously.

“We didn’t want him! But this... this headmaster imposed him on us without even asking our opinion! He was a stone to our neck!”

“Of course,” Sephiroth replied sarcastically. “A house of this size, you had to go into debt up to your neck to get it. I assume your husband touches unemployment and you aids, to have been able to pay it?”

Petunia paled.

“Just for your information, I was a General a long time ago. Despite the fact that all of my education was war-centered, I was not promoted to that rank at TWELVE YEARS OLD by being idiot.”

Petunia opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to say anything. Finally, the words came out.

“Twelve years old? But no civilized country promotes  _ children _ to the rank of General!?”

Sephiroth laughed softly, making her shudder.

“As far as I can see, your sister has inherited most of the intelligence. She did not tell you about me?” He asked calmly, tilting his head to the side like a predator. “I think she must have found the legends about me.”

“What do you mean?” Petunia asked, shaking.

Sephiroth simply leaned in response, grabbing Vernon with his right hand, lifting him effortlessly. He dropped him on the couch, repeating the operation with Marge. The two had began to wake up, but he decided against hitting them to send them back into unconsciousness. He needed them to be awake to dig their own grave. Looking up at Petunia, he offered her a smile worthy of a shark, all teeth and malice.

“I'm not as… young as I look, Petunia Dursley. If your sister told you about me, before you stupidly rejected her for something that she has as much control over as she does her hair color, you would know who I am.”

“ _ Who _ are you?” Petunia asked, terrified.

Part of her already knew the answer, indeed. Lily had told her family about a legend so old that even wizards were unsure of its origin, unlike Merlin or Morgana. A legend murmured in the houses, whose mere mention made even the most powerful shudder. A legend about a silver-haired Demon, who wielded a long sword, and tried to destroy the world a long time ago. She was pretty sure it was him, but part of her wanted to continue to deny the evidence that was in front of her.

“ _ Who _ I am?” Sephiroth repeated with almost malicious amusement. “I am Sephiroth Valentine. I am the Calamity’s son, the Demon of Wutai. But above all, I am the Nightmare.”

“That’s impossible!” gasped Petunia, split between horror and terror. “It's just a legend, too old to be true! You can not be him! Even if it was true, he lived about…”

“About ten thousand years ago, I know about it,” Sephiroth replied calmly. “There are different forms of immortality in this world, Petunia Dursley. Some are natural, like phoenixes. Others, like vampires, are the result of a curse. As far as I'm concerned... no, I'm not immortal. A madman injected me with the cells of an alien who fell from the sky long before I was born. This monster was still alive after 2,000 years in the ice, sealed by a race of humans called Cetras. Unfortunately, the people who exhumed her mistook her for one of them, and studied her. They wanted to use it to dominate the world they knew, unaware that it was only three islands, tiny in relation to the rest of the planet.”

Petunia remained frozen, listening to it without being able to move. She hardly dared to breathe under his cold, impassive gaze. The ease with which he had knocked Vernon down, and especially the one with which he had lifted him afterwards, showed that he was telling the truth. Her husband was still too dazed to react, and the part of herself obsessed with cleanliness was hoping that he would stay still until the police arrived. She did not want her living room to end up covered in blood.

“He injected me with those cells while I was still in my mother's womb,” continued Sephiroth, almost ignoring Petunia. “Then, at birth, they separated me from her, and educated me to be a SOLDIER. At twelve, they threw me on the battlefield. During the years that followed, I only knew war. The mere idea of peace was foreign to me. Then I lost my only friends. The madman who had injected me with these cells sent me on a mission where the monster was locked up. This... thing, which had been introduced to me as my mother, took control of my mind. And she made me massacred the whole village. There were only three survivors in total. And it was one of them who managed to kill me for the first time.”

“For the first time?” Petunia repeated in a shrill tone. “But…”

“The cells of this monster are... resistant,” Sephiroth replied with some bitterness. “And above all, they carry a form of consciousness. When I died that time, my mind broke. The five years that followed are not very clear in my memory. I know this thing... Jenova, restored my mind. However, she did not even bother to fully reconstruct me. If she had done it... I do not think I would have wanted to come back to life. The little she restored to me, however... wanted to destroy the world to take revenge for all that I had suffered. Because I was just a lab rat for them. Not even human enough to be treated decently.”

He paused briefly as he felt Harry's hand take his. He turned his head in his direction, a little surprised, to see that the boy stared at him with sadness. It was not the first time he had heard him tell his story, but it hurt him every time. Sephiroth smiled reassuringly, though sadly. He then turned his attention back to Petunia, still in the same place.

“She made me want to take control of the Lifestream, where the souls return after their death. I died twice more because of her. One, in a fight in the heart of the Planet, literally, and the other, in the ruins of Midgar, destroyed by a Meteor whom I had invoked under  _ her _ control. And it was only at my third death that she left me alone. Her mind dissolved in the flow of souls, and I was  _ finally _ free. One of my friends who had died took the trouble to go in search of fragments of my soul, to restore it. You do not deserve to know what happened next, so I would only say that I lost my friends again, as well as someone who was dear to us. At my request, I was sealed in a crystal made of Solidified Lifestream, and slept.”

“Until now?” Petunia asked fearfully.

“Until now,” Sephiroth confirmed. “And do you know why I woke up?” He asked softly, his aura slowly spreading around him, making Vernon and Marge, who had woken up, freeze in place.

Petunia shook her head, not daring to answer. The smile that Sephiroth gave her almost managed to make her lose control of some very important bodily functions, and she clung to the wall behind her.

“I woke up because Harry begged someone to protect him. Do you have any idea of what can  _ push _ a child to beg for a stranger to protect him? Many things. In any case, it is clear that you have not inherited much intelligence compared to your sister.”

Petunia opened her mouth to protest furiously, only to realized that even if she was screaming, no sound came out of her lips. Sephiroth gave her a dark smile.

“Before you say something stupid about the fact that I have no right to do magic... it is a form of magic so old that the Ministry of Idiots has no way to detect it. To come back to what I was saying right before... you made a big mistake in mistreating Harry. Have you ever wondered how people like you could ignore the abuse of Harry? How could you mistreat him with impunity?”

Petunia forgot her silence, surprise. She had indeed asked herself the question when Harry had started school. The social worker who had come to the house had never responded to Harry's complaint, who had not tried to alert the authorities after the third or fourth time, realizing that it was useless and that it would bring him only blows. Even Vernon had never asked the question. Sephiroth shook his head, disgusted.

“You never asked yourself that, did you? Did you just take advantage of the situation, or did you wanted to avoid thinking that  _ magic _ was the cause?”

The simple word made Vernon turn purple, but Masamune appeared in Sephiroth's hand, pushing him to remain motionless. He had not even looked at him, his feline eyes staring coldly at Petunia.

“ _ Magic _ is responsible for that. A spell was affixed to the protections that covered this house, making non-wizards forget what was happening under your roof. And according to you, what was  _ feeding  _ the main protection of this house?”

Petunia paled again, her gaze passing briefly over Harry, before returning to the silverette. The boy was barely surprised by the revelations of his protector. Furious, yes, but not surprised. That explained a lot of things, indeed.

“Yes,” confirmed Sephiroth, “ _ Harry _ was feeding it. If you had treated him  _ properly _ , I would have had trouble dismantling the Blood Ward on this house. But at the pace where things were going, I would not have been surprised that it collapsed by itself in the coming months. The  _ only _ thing that allowed it to stand up was Harry's magic.  _ All _ the spells on this house were fueled by it. If you had not made the monumental mistake of beating him, you wouldn’t have seen him again, only to sign the papers entrusting him to my care.”

Petunia snorted scornfully, before pointing at her throat. Sephiroth threw an Esuna with a languid gesture, his eyes clearly warning her that she had better pay attention to her words. Petunia flinched at the green glow that surrounded her briefly, before glaring at him.

“Do you think we didn’t try to get rid of him?  _ He _ always brought him back here!”

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

“You don’t have magic. As far as I'm concerned... I  _ destroyed _ the Blood Ward, which was probably the reason he brought him back here. He will never be able to make it take root again. If you had not beaten Harry, you would have seen us only once. He would have recovered the objects with a sentimental value for him, if there are any, and we would definitely be gone. But it's too late for that,” he said, hearing the sirens sound far away. “You have sown the wind, and it is not the storm that you have reaped, but the hurricane.”

oOo

The police officers stared at the scene in front of them in disbelief. On one side, they had a bloody kid, who was more or less curled up behind a tall, slender man with long black hair tied in a ponytail. Beside them, there was a dog skewered with a kitchen knife. On the other side, a skinny, bony woman was stuck to the wall, while a pair of obese walrus was standing in front of the couch, and shouting incoherent words to the policemen. Incoherent in the sense that they had no logic.

“THIS SILVER-HAIRED FREAK BARGED IN OUR HOUSE AND ATTACKED ME WITHOUT REASON!” The man bellowed.

“HE KILLED MY ADORABLE RIPPER WITH A SWORD OF ALMOST SEVEN FEET LONG!” The woman shouted at the same time. “AND HE THREATENS US WITH IT!”

“Silver hair?” Repeated, skeptical, one of the policemen. “They’re black.”

“A sword of seven feet? It's a kitchen knife,” objected his colleague. “And you can tell me where he would have hidden it? Or how would he have transported it?”

There was a blank, and the two people looked at the man, who had not moved a centimeter, his expression scornful. The kid behind him was shaking like a leaf. They then began to cry in chorus at the policemen.

“HE CHANGED APPEARANCE! HE HAD SILVER HAIR JUST BEFORE YOU ENTERED!”

“Of course he did,” said the first policeman, sarcastically. “Fred, lets bagged them, they are clearly psychotic.”

“With pleasure, Sebastian,” growled the second. “Guys, we let you help the kid, we take care of the two crazy ones.”

“Good luck with them,” mumbled one of the emergency doctors. “You’ll have a hard time chucking them in your car.”

“Fortunately we came with two cars, we would have screwed up the axles otherwise,” Sebastian grumbled.

“If you need a hand, I'd be happy to help you,” said the man without uncrossing his arms, continuing to monitored both people like an eagle.

“We should be good,” said Fred, pulling the handcuffs, before frowning, looking at the man. “It's going to be too short,” he mumbled, and he pulled out another pair.

Quickly tying them to each other, he then handcuffed the fat man, serving him the usual speech when he arrested someone. He paused, realizing the man had his wrist broken, and decided he didn’t care. According to the operator, the kid would be twelve, soon thirteen. Except he had the physique of a skinny kid of about 11 years old. A glance around him showed many pictures of a fat kid, who looked a lot like the walrus. But no trace of the terrified kid in front of him. Okay, there was something really wrong in this house.

“Dan, can you take the guy's evidence please?” Sebastian shouted while pushing the fat sister in front of him, who was furiously protesting her treatment.

Nobody paid attention to what she was saying, anyway. He contemplated a moment the taser, but then they would have to drag her into the car. Two other officers came to help them, and they managed to fit them into the vehicles. Fortunately, the skinny woman (probably the wife) came without resistance, seeming to realize that they were running out of patience.

Dan shook his head at the sight, sickened. He then turned his attention to the jet-black haired man, who had abandoned his watchful posture and squatted next to the kid. The latter had finally calmed down when the walrus siblings had been driven out of the house, and, if he seemed uncomfortable in front of the doctors' attention, looked a lot less stressed now. He shivered as he crossed the strange eyes of the guy who seemed to want to protect the boy. His eyes were vaguely like those of a cat or a snake, with their strange vertical pupil. That would explain why they had called him Freak anyway. It was probably a birth defect, he thought. Dan decided not to comment on it, the poor guy must have heard a lot of comments already about it, and it had little to do with their case.

“First of all, you should take a look in the cupboard under the stairs, and in the upstairs bedrooms,” said the man, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You might find your discoveries… enlightening.”

Dan was surprised by his words as his voice, grave and calm. There was something in his tone that made him listen. Quiet assurance, and a dull anger, contrasting with his professional, almost cold appearance. Something told him that they were lucky that he seemed to have such control over himself, or they should have called the undertakers.

Intrigued, he complied, deciding he could wait a bit to question him.

When his gaze landed on the cupboard in question, he asked himself serious questions about the mental health of the occupants of the house. Who puts three locks on a cupboard for household products? Unless it isn't about protecting what's inside... but preventing it from going out. Frowning, he opened the bolts... and was speechless in front of what he discovered inside.

A camping bed, with a thin, dirty foam mattress, with traces looking suspiciously like blood, on which was placed a threadbare blanket. Other signs showed that a person had lived in this closet for a long time, like the words scribbled with colored pencils on the steps: " _ Harry's room _ ". He felt a cold anger invade him, and closed the door, perhaps with more force than necessary. Standing up, he took the stairs to take a look at the rooms. Something told him that he was not going to like what he was going to find there either.

He paused in front of the door of what was probably the first room. He blinked, his eyes passing from this door to the next. The second door of the floor, on the same side, had at least SIX locks. He felt sick again when he saw that. Taking out a notebook from his pocket, he began to write what he had seen so far. Between the state of the kid, the multiple photos of what was to be his cousin, and the cupboard under the stairs that had clearly served as a room until recently... there were already incriminating charges against his "family".

Opening the door of the room, he remained silent before the state of the room. There were toys everywhere, some clearly overpriced. No book, though. He looked at the room for a long time, noting that the kid inside had to be rotten to the core. Leaving the door open, he went to the next room. He would have expected everything, but not that. In addition to the locks on the door, there was a cat flap at the bottom. What could it serve for? One would almost say a flap to pass food to a prisoner.

Opening the door, he blinked in disbelief. It looked a lot like the first room, in the sense that there was an unspeakable mess, but it was the only thing in common between the two. In this second room, all the toys were at best in poor condition, at worst completely smashed. He even saw a television disemboweled in a corner, next to a large birdcage, and a camcorder out of use on a pedal-powered tank. A twisted rifle was on a shelf. The only things that looked in good shape were the books on the shelves.

The bed was also in poor condition. Unlike the room next door, it was clearly cheap, and let’s not talk about the blanket, barely in better condition than the one in the cupboard. The desk against the wall was not outdone, one of the legs of the chair had even been replaced by a broken baseball bat!

He closed his eyes, pinching his nose. It was even worse than he had expected when he received this call from the central office.  _ How _ was it possible to treat two children so differently? He did not dare to imagine the blond kid. He must have been horrible, and if he trusted the pictures, he must be barely older than the kid on the bottom floor! He breathed deeply. Something told him that he was not going to like what the boy was going to tell him either.

Descending, he noticed that the guy who was protecting the kid had the phone to his ear and was talking to someone.

“Mr. Granger? No, we never spoke to each other, but your daughter had to write to you about me. Yes, my name is Sephiroth Valentine. Hermione was hoping I would call her to tell her about Harry's condition.  _ "Okay" _ is exaggerated. He was sent back to his uncle's house in ways that they did not like, and they beat him. I am currently at his home, the cops took his uncle and aunt into custody. Oh, I doubt they will get out. And if they do, I would make it my case. Yes, in the  _ final _ definition. There are limits to my tolerance. In any case, I called you to find out if you could help me. Let's say… that Harry has no money on him, and unfortunately, me neither. No, he has the means, from what I know. His family is old and rich, as I understand it, but he does not currently have access to the money.”

The man paused, nodding.

“I think Harry will still insist on paying back your expenses. He is like that, yes. Very well. Yes, I'll call you back when we're at the hospital to tell you the name. Thank you.”

Dan noticed that the boy (Harry) seemed extremely embarrassed by what was going on, but he said nothing. One of the emergency doctors got up at the same time.

“Well, we did everything we could on the spot, we'll take him to the hospital. I guess you will stay with him?”

Sephiroth, who had hung up, put the handset on its base, turning to the man.

“I am his bodyguard. As long as he is not with people I consider reliable, I will  _ not _ let him disappear out of my sight.”

The way he'd said that made an icy chill run down everyone back, except Harry, who looked reassured. Sephiroth gently helped the boy to stand up, supporting him to walk. Dan noticed how much Harry seemed to depend on Sephiroth. If he judged by the condition of the child, he had been mistreated until recently. He had probably met the former soldier not long ago, and he had probably agreed to serve as a bodyguard when he saw his condition.

The cop shook his head with pity. He would have almost taken the family who lived here in pity, but they had clearly dug their own grave. A misplaced gesture, and they would end there, literally.

And he realized that he literally didn’t give a fuck. If there was one thing he hated, it was the people who abused helpless children. It was even worse when it came to their own children. A sadistic smile escaped him. Even in prison, criminals had certain standards. Child abusers and rapists generally had a very short life expectancy. Something told him that the two walrus might have a short sentence... and not because the judges would be lenient.

_ To be continued… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Evil cackle *  
> Hey hehehe… the Dursleys finally got what they deserved! It was time!  
> Don’t worry about Vernon, his fellow prisoners will take care of his case *sadistic laugh*- Fumseck_73
> 
> *joining in evil cackles*-Dragonqueen909


	5. Secrets from the Past

Hogwarts held her breath, metaphorically speaking. Would Dumbledore take the bait? It was a little known fact that Peeves was the incarnation of the children's mischief. Most people mistook him for a poltergeist. Few had guessed his true nature. The chaos he created in the school was almost a natural order of things, with so many children present.

Of course, at times, he could be legitimately dangerous. Burst water filled balloons on a marble floor for example, or plan the fall of a stone bust on someone. However... he was tied to the school. And if Hogwarts asked him to do something, he would do gleefully.

So he had begun to create chaos in the opposite direction of Sephiroth's, and the Bloody Baron, accompanied by the other ghosts, pretended to be unaware of anything, and had gone to the dungeons. Forcing Albus to go and take care of him, and therefore leave his office shortly after Sephiroth.

The Sorting Hat chuckled softly, imitated by some paintings.

“Frankly, Albus is not very clever,” said the portrait of a woman with long black hair, visibly amused. “No wonder he landed in your house, Godric.”

“HEY!” Protest the portrait of a man with a thick mane of long flaming red hair, giving him the appearance of a lion. “Not everyone has the intelligence to be in your house, Rowena! And why did not you ever tell us that you were the reincarnation of a Cetra?”

Rowena rolled her eyes.

“I only remembered it very late in life, Godric. And then it would have served what, frankly? Certainly, we wizards descend for most part of the survivors of the Sacred Land of Gaia, who fled when Minerva submerged it. But what's the interest? My only role in this life was to protect Sephiroth. It was the task the Goddess had entrusted to me.”

Another portrait laughed softly.

“Yes, Rowena, but I find it ironic that your present reincarnation is walking the halls. NO, NOT THAT!”

“So avoid opening your mouth, Sal,” Rowena glared at him, lowering her wand she had lifted. “If Albus ever hears us speak like that, he will realize that the school is not as loyal to him as he believes. And, for the moment, it is  _ crucial _ that he remains ignorant.”

A plump woman with ashen blond hair entered the portrait next to the door at that moment, shivering.

“You tell me Rowena. Poor Harry has just been snatch away by Portkey, and his friend Hermione fled the dormitory, panicked. She is looking for Sephiroth. I ordered the portraits to guide her to him, to save time.”

Rowena grimaced.

“Thank you, Helga. Hogwarts, warns the paintings that they may have to leave the corridor in which he finds himself when she finds him. Same for the armors.”

“That bad?” Godric asked, frowning, while stroking his beard.

“Believe me Godric, an angry Sephiroth in full possession of his faculties is  _ extremely _ dangerous,” Rowena said, shaking her head. “I was able to see him at work, and he is not to be taken lightly.”

Salazar nodded thoughtfully.

“From what you told me once, just to kill the Puppy, it took a whole army, and barely, to successfully kill him.”

Rowena nodded.

“A SOLDIER 1st Class is extremely resistant. Zack had a good level, and it took more than 200 men to defeat him. Yet he was not the strongest. In the end, it was his stubbornness that allowed him to stand and continue. Would there have been even thirty men less, he might have got away.”

Godric let out an admiring whistle.

“And compared to Sephiroth? Or even his Mentor and the Crimson Mage?”

Rowena laughed softly.

“Without Degradation? You can at least multiply this number by 3 or 4 for the other two. Sephiroth, on the other hand... multiply it by 10, at least.”

Salazar shuddered.

“That much?”

She nodded.

“He was the strongest SOLDIER there was. None could come to his ankle. If Cloud could kill him, it was above all because he had completely lowered his guard the first time.”

“And the following?” Asked Helga gently, coming to be in the same frame as Godric.

“The next one, they were 8 against him. The simple number, calm and concentrated in front of a madman, was enough. As for the last one…” Rowena sighed. “The last, I think part of him just didn’t want to fight anymore. And that he took the opportunity.”

Helga nodded. At this moment, the hat shivered.

“Oh oh. He's  _ really _ mad, Lady Ravenclaw. Is it such a good idea?”

She nodded.

“Don’t worry, Clarence,” she said with a mysterious smile. “Hermione will calm him down.”

Her co-founders looked at her with skepticism.

“You know something,” Salazar accused, pointing at her. “You are  _ much _ too calm to be the opposite.”

Rowena laughs softly.

“It's a secret, my dear. In any case... are you ready, Clarence?”

The tip of the Hat moved as if to nod, and he replied:

“Hogwarts will always take care of the Heirs, Lady Ravenclaw. Ah, Dobby just took him away.”

Salazar nodded.

“Albus?”

“Trying to fix Peeves' mess,” chuckled the Sorting Hat. “Flitwick is trying to help him, but... in short, Peeves continues to create chaos all over the area. Oho, they called McGonagall for reinforcement!”

Godric burst out laughing.

“The poor dear didn’t deserve that. Flitwick either, by the way. He may have seen nothing of Luna's harassment so far, but it's not completely his fault.”

One of the silver instruments on the shelf in front of the Sorting Hat chooses this specific moment to stop with a strangled squeak, letting out a small cloud of black smoke, instead of the usual silver. Helga let out a predatory smile.

“It started. Clarence?”

The Sorting Hat chuckled.

“With pleasure, Lady Hufflepuff.”

He leaned his tip towards the instrument, which slowly began to spin again, even letting out the silver smoke as if nothing had happened. A second one stopped a few seconds later, and Clarence repeated the process. Eventually, all the instruments were set back in motion, but only powered by the energy the school brought them, imitating their normal rhythm, but no longer tied to anything. Salazar laughed softly at seeing that.

“Your idea of getting us able to move in any of the school frames was pure genius, Rowena. On the other hand, after what has just happened, I don’t know if Sephiroth will accept to let Harry come back.”

Rowena snorted.

“Don’t worry about that, Sal. Destiny cannot be changed too much, or things will be much worse. Minerva knows it too. She will take care of explaining things to him.”

“And he will listen to her?” Godric asked, skeptical.

“Oh, believe me, after what Minerva did for him, he  _ will listen _ to her. Not to mention that in my opinion, she will probably present him a boon to convince him.”

“And what kind of boon?” Godric asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I don’t see what could convince him to let Harry come back here, with what just happened.”

Rowena laughs softly in response.

“In your opinion, Godric?”

“The people who were dear to him?” Salazar asked, puzzled.

“Right on, Sal. And a person in particular. They are not yet ready to wake up, however. I doubt that Minerva will allow my reincarnation to wake them before at least the end of next school year, at a minimum.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Helga asked, frowning.

“Events  _ must _ occur. And they must occur in a certain way. Not another. In order to get rid of Riddle permanently, things have to happen in a precise way.”

Salazar sighed, rubbing his face.

“About Riddle, I'm really sorry for all this.”

Helga snorted.

“You couldn’t have know, Sal. But I admit that your descendants have fallen hard. Crossing between members of the same family, to the point of being almost Squib... Besides that, if he managed to get hold of your locket... he probably corrupted it.”

Salazar put his hand on his face with a grunt.

“The worst part is that you're probably right, Helga. After what he did to Rowena's Diadem... I'm sorry for what happened to Helena, Rowena. I never thought that Edmund was that hot blooded at this point…”

His co-founder shook her head sadly.

“I knew there was one chance in two that happens, Sal. I am not mad at you. I regret that Helena did not understand what I tried to teach her, especially. But the past is the past. We can not change it anymore.”

Salazar let out a heavy sigh.

“At least the future is not engraved in stone. I really would have regret that Harry would have been forced to kill Esmeralda. I imagine if he had not found Sephiroth, that would have happened?”

Rowena nodded sadly.

“Fawkes would have healed him, but…”

“But that would have left consequences,” Helga sighed. “Especially with the little Weasley girl.”

Salazar pursed his lips angrily.

“She has all the symptoms of someone under Love Potion. It's really  _ only _ thanks to Albus's compulsions that the nurse did not see anything.”

Rowena smiled mysteriously.

“Don’t worry Sal, her brother will help her.”

“Rowena,  _ stop _ driving us crazy with your clues!” Protest Godric. “Give us real explanations, by Merlin’s balls!”

“Nope!” Rowena giggled, before slipping out of her portrait.

“ROWENA! GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN!” Godric roared, going after her.

The other two let out a long, heavy sigh.

“How old were we when we died?” Salazar asked tiredly.

“Almost 70 years old,” Helga replied in the same tone. “But I wonder if these two have ever grown beyond adolescence.”

The Sorting Hat burst out laughing.

“I don’t think so, Lady Hufflepuff. I don’t have the impression they did.”

The two remaining Founders let out a weary sigh. Even as portraits, their friends continued to tire them. They returned to their quiet vigil, dodging Albus, on the way back.

oOo

Sephiroth put the handset down with a tired sigh. At least the police officer was kind enough to lend him some money so he could make the call. And watch over Harry the time he contacts the Grangers. At least, he knew where Hermione had derived her sense of loyalty and intelligence.

His nerves still tense, he decided to go back to see how Harry was holding out. The poor kid was more used to having negative attention, so he was stressed enough. As far as Sephiroth was concerned, he still feared that Harry would be kidnapped from under his nose. He knew that these chances were extremely low coming now, which did not prevent him to worry anyway. Fortunately, he would soon be able to deal with the remaining spells on Harry. He had already broken the one that prevented peoples from realizing the wounds that were not suffered at school, and how much he had wanted to go and  _ gut _ Dumbledore by seeing that.

Sephiroth was reassured to see that Harry was still there on his return, and that his wounds were treated. The black eye that the boy wore made his desires for murder rise on the other hand, just like his arm in a sling. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He would take care of the Dursleys if they ever managed to dodge a prison sentence, which, according to the police officer who had accompanied them, was unlikely.

Dan asked him a few more questions, but between what he could see in the house, Harry's condition, and the reaction of the Dursleys, he had practically everything he needed. No way to obtain personal information about Sephiroth however, the guy was closed like a clam about his privacy. All he could learn was that he had been a General, before making a particularly violent burnout and leaving everything behind. He refused to say what he had done in the meantime, and Dan suspected that he had probably lived on the street until he met Harry at his school. The boy had probably bought him new clothes, his outfit was too good to suggest otherwise. In any case, they were good enough to confirm that Harry had to have money. But why did he wear those rags then?

When he asked the question, Harry seemed to shrink back on himself, and only Sephiroth's hand on his shoulder seemed to give him the courage to explain. How his "family" refused to spend a penny for him, even going so far as to buy him glasses in a charity to spend as little as possible. Dan pursed his lips as he heard that. Yet another form of abuse. Because to hear it, if they could have avoided giving him the old clothes of his cousin, they would have done it. From what he heard, they had subjected him to almost every possible abuse, with the exception of sexual abuse. Even punish him for getting better grades than his idiot cousin. They had never given him the opportunity to do his homework properly, whether in time or equipment.

He really hoped they would die in prison. Something told him that Sephiroth would not hesitate to kill them if they ever came out before the end of their sentence. And he doubted he’d want to stop him if the evidence led to him... if he left any. Dan noted the Grangers number, for a way to contact him. He was not sure it was necessary, though. Given all the evidence they had accumulated, the need for Harry to testify against his uncle and his sister (who, hearing him, had done most of the physical abuse, his aunt more “in charged” with emotional abuse) was quite low. The boy seemed relieved to hear that.

Sephiroth nodded with somber satisfaction. Harry had seen them enough like that. If he could never see them again in his life, that would be perfect. Now all he was waiting for was that Hermione's parents arrived. He controlled himself, but the smells of the hospital brought back all his bad childhood memories, when he lived exclusively in the laboratory, at the mercy of Hojo. He was tense because of that, and he was afraid of having an unfortunate reflex if it lasted too long. He  _ hated _ hospitals with passion because of this madman who claimed to be a scientist. The more he could avoid them, the better he would be.

He unconsciously put an arm around Harry's shoulders when he pressed against him, apparently just as nervous. He was so lost in thought that he almost jumped up and summoned Masamune reflexively when someone cleared his throat behind him. He firmly repressed the reflex, his left hand barely twitching. He stood up slowly, waking Harry who seemed to be falling asleep (probably because of painkillers). Turning to the door, he saw a couple in the opening, and had little trouble understanding that they were Hermione's parents. The woman, especially, resembled her. He greeted them with a nod of his head.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger I suppose?”

The man nodded.

“You're Mr. Valentine yes?”

Sephiroth ignored the vague discomfort at hearing that. He had never had a last name growing up, so he was not used to hearing someone call him that. He could not say anything though, at least not before being at their home.

“Call me Sephiroth, please.”

“In that case, I insist that you call us Emma and Nathan,” Hermione's mother said firmly.

Sephiroth nodded. Emma was looking at him with interest, but more because she seemed intrigued by his appearance than because she stared at him with desire. Genesis and Angeal had to teach him to realize when women stared at him with desire, because he had never noticed anything. And since  _ She _ was blind, she had never been able to stare at him like that (and she had admitted herself that she would never have, out of respect). It was also something he liked about that time, he did not have to watch his back to avoid hordes of furious fangirls. Even if the women continued to stare at him with interest. At Hogwarts, the older girls had tried to seize the slightest excuse to talk to him.

And for once, he did not hesitate to let them know what was on his mind. It had calmed some, but something told him he should start regularly.

Fortunately, Harry could walk alone, albeit slowly. Sephiroth didn’t let him go all the way through the exit procedures, keeping an eye on the surroundings. Luckily, the Grangers obviously knew these by heart, and seemed well prepared for any possible snags to pose problem. He received the explanation afterwards: the Grangers worked regularly for this hospital. That explained in any case why they had arrived so quickly, he told himself. Dan left them in the middle of the proceedings, having to report to his superiors.

He let out a sigh of relief as he left, which almost turned into a coughing fit in the face of pollution. Ugh, it smelled almost as bad as Midgar. It just missed the smell of Mako. And it smelled a lot worse in the Slums, he told himself while helping Harry move forward. He carefully studied the Granger vehicle as he reached it. He had never been too interested in cars, but he could see that Hermione's family was pretty well off. It must have been expensive enough.

He helped Harry get in the back, letting him buckle his belt alone. He climbed on the other side, fastening himself. Sephiroth had never been very chatty, and he could see that the traffic was worse than Midgar during peak hours, so he let Nathan focus on his driving. He forced himself to respond to Emma, to avoid an uncomfortable silence. Beside him, Harry was half asleep, drowsy because of the painkillers, and the stress that left him. He finally fell asleep about three-quarters of the way, leaning against Sephiroth, who shook his head with amusement. Emma smiled when she saw that. If they didn’t count the fact that Harry had been beaten by his uncle, she thought it was adorable.

Sephiroth raised his head, feeling that they were slowing down. He noticed with interest that if the Grangers also lived in a subdivision, it was less... sanitized than that of the Dursleys. More warm. Their house too was very different. Similar in size, but he felt it had a personality.

As he got out of the car, he gently took Harry in his arms, being careful not to wake him up, following Nathan in the house. He nodded, seeing that his first impression was confirmed. The interior was as warm as the outside, and did not have that horrible smell of disinfectant that the Dursleys had. Moreover, where the Dursleys seemed to have exposed expensive and soulless objects, the Grangers preferred handmade objects, or ones that seemed to matter to them.

He laughed softly in his head as he sees the filled bookcases in the living room. Strangely, it did not surprise him. Following Emma, he went upstairs to a room that was clearly used as a guest room. He waited for Emma to make the bed, and put Harry on the mattress carefully. The doctors had warned that he should sleep on his back until his ribs were healed. Sephiroth would have liked to use Cure on Harry, but if he did, he might expose the Muggles to magic. For this time, he would let nature do its work.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with an annoyed sigh, and, with a thought, returned his hair to their normal color and length, making Emma jump in surprise. The latter blinked several times, taken aback, before deciding that no, she did not dream, Sephiroth's hair was silver and long to the knees. She noticed that he seemed quite amused at her reaction, and apologized, embarrassed. Sephiroth just laughed.

“Hermione didn’t tell you that I could change my appearance? Or did she not attend that?”

“I think she didn’t attend, or she would have spoken of it in her letters,” Emma replied, regaining normal use of speech. “I understand better why you had black hairs though, as Hermione had said they were silver. Why did you changed your appearance?”

Sephiroth snorted.

“Even among wizards, silver is not a common hair color at my physical age. And a similar length either. So among people without magic…”

Emma could only nod to this logic.

“In addition,” Sephiroth continued, “I knew that changing my hair color would make the Dursleys look even more unbalanced than they are naturally. With them, I prefer not to take risks.”

Emma pursed her lips angrily as she thought of these people.

“I had always suspected that there was something wrong with Harry since I met him last year, but as soon as I tried to put my finger on it, it escaped me. Magic?”

Sephiroth nodded.

“There are many spells on Harry, some were connected to his uncle's and aunt's house. I took care of those on the house, but there is still a lot on Harry.”

“You will take care of it, I hope?” Emma asked, worried.

“Of course, but some of them will have us need to go see a healer,” Sephiroth said, pursing his lips. “I don’t know what the consequences will be if I break the block on his magic myself.”

“There is a block on his magic?” Exclaimed Emma, horrified.

Attracting the attention of her husband, who had to look at Sephiroth twice before realizing he was the same person. The silverette nodded, furious.

“I am not sure of the extent of the block, but I think it must at least block almost half of his magic. For the rest, three-quarters were used to feed the protections on his house.”

Emma was even more horrified to hear that. It meant that Harry had only a tiny part of his magic available. And yet... according to Hermione, he was doing pretty well in spells casting. She did not even dare to imagine his power now that he was free from the burden of all these spells. As if reading her thoughts, Sephiroth continued:

“I don’t think, however, that we will go to a healer immediately for the blocking of his magic. Now that he is free from the burden of these spells, he will have to get used to the influx of power. And so, train to master it.”

Emma nodded, Nathan joining the conversation.

“It seems logical, it is as if he had to follow a rehabilitation after injuries, but in the reverse curve. Instead of rebuilding his strength, he must learn to moderate it. Do you think you can help him?”

Sephiroth ran a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I will do my best, in any case. Unfortunately, my own strength has always been above normal. So I don’t really have a point of reference on that side. Genesis or Angeal would have been better... especially Angeal.”

“Why?” Nathan asked, puzzled.

Sephiroth chuckled softly, trying not to make too much noise. Harry needed some rest.

“Genesis was, let's say... famous for two things. His womanizer side, even if his problem was more to sort through his female admirers, and also but especially for his... explosive personality.”

“Explosive?” Emma repeated, surprised and a little worried.

Sephiroth nodded, an amused smile on his lips.

“According to Angeal, Genesis has always had a very... extrovert personality. Unfortunately, this trend hasn’t subsided over the years. And the day he put his hand on a Fire Materia was cursed by many people, according to rumors. The problem with Genesis is that he always had very… limited patience. So, the cadets knew it was better to do what he was saying when he said it, under penalty of having to dodge fireballs. On the other hand, the cadet's dodge rate soared as soon as Genesis was on the board to take care of their training.”

“He was high up?” Asked Nathan, wondering about the mental health of people who could leave such a pyromaniac in charge of cadets.

Sephiroth snorted with amusement.

“He and Angeal were my direct subordinates, just below me. Both had the rank of Commanders, and Zack, even after being promoted to 1st Class, was only Lieutenant.”

“The hyperactive young man, according to Hermione, was it?”

“That's it. Angeal nicknamed him The Puppy because of that, and also his limited attention span. To come back to Genesis, he didn’t reach that rank for nothing. Despite his explosive nature and his tendency to throw fireballs at the slightest annoyance, he was a good superior. He knew how to effectively command his troops, and he was an expert in Materia. He was not called the Crimson Mage for nothing. Even I wasn’t at his level.”

“Really? Emma asked, curious. “Still, from what you said to Hermione, you're doing well in the field.”

Sephiroth shook his head.

“Our respective strengths in the field were very different. Genesis was like a laser, to give you a point of comparison. Focused and precise, with correct power. But me... I would be more of a nuclear bomb. I don’t have his finesse in the use of Materia, and he didn’t have my sheer firepower.”

Nathan let out a whistle in low voice.

“And Angeal?”

Sephiroth chuckled.

“Angeal... wasn’t particularly good with Materia, to the great despair of Genesis. He managed to use it more or less, but he was struggling. On this point, they complemented each other perfectly. Genesis was the duo's Mage, attacking with both magic and sword, a field in which he was also very good. Angeal preferred melee attack or sword, depending on the situation. When they saw them together on the battlefield, it was not unusual for enemies to give up the fight.”

“And you?”

Sephiroth sighed.

“Me... the enemies feared and hated me at the same time. One of my nicknames at the time, before I lost my mind, was The Demon. As you can imagine... our enemies did not appreciate my prowess on the battlefield.”

Emma shook her head sadly as she heard that. Sephiroth gave her the impression of having lived a very isolated life, between what he had told Hermione and what he had just explained to them. Gently, she took him by the arm.

“Come on, let Harry rest. In any case, he is not risking anything now, is he?”

Sephiroth hesitated for a second before nodding.

“Let me just the time to check that there are no other surprises on his clothes.”

Emma nodded, letting him go. Sephiroth went to kneel beside Harry, who had not woken up. Activating his magic sight, he carefully studied the remaining spells on the boy. He noticed another spell of transportation on the clothes of his protege, fortunately inactive. It had to have been programmed to take Harry if the others failed, which was not the case. Pinching the magic threads gently, he took care of the spell. There were lots of spells left to keep an eye on Harry, but he decided to take care of them during the night, when he was sure Dumbledore was sleeping. Sephiroth did not know how much Hogwarts could help, and he did not want to rely on school alone.

Once satisfied with his examination, he got up, and followed the couple to the ground floor. Arriving in front of the living room, he motioned them to wait.

“Dobby?” He called softly.

The House Elf appeared in a loud crack, making Emma and Nathan jump. Realizing that it was more or less normal, judging by the lack of reaction of the silverette, they calmed down. The little being seemed rather nervous, but relatively calm at the same time. Emma blinked in surprise when she saw that he had appeared with a big trunk, similar to their daughter's, and realized that it probably belonged to Harry. Sephiroth nodded, seeing that.

“You could get all off Harry's stuff, Dobby?”

“Yes, Mister Nightmare,” answered the elf bravely. “Dobby also took care of the portkeys that Headmaster Whiskers had placed on Harry Potter stuffs. Dobby is sorry he did not see before Headmaster Whiskers placed these spells... Dobby will pinch his ears in the oven to punish himself.”

Sephiroth pinched the bridge of the nose with a slightly exasperated sigh. He had not yet had time to talk to the couple about House Elves, and he had hoped that Dobby would not let that escape. Well, too late now.

“Dobby,  _ even I _ didn’t realize anything. Thank you for eliminating those who were on his stuffs, although I think they will end up in the trash. In terms of your punishment... I doubt that even Harry would hold a grudge for this. If you  _ really _ think you deserve a punishment, we'll talk to Harry tomorrow, okay? But knowing him, I doubt he accepts.”

Dobby nodded shyly, before adding:

“Harry Potter also gave his money pouch to his friend. Dobby did not dare to get it back, should Dobby do it?”

Sephiroth raised a puzzled eyebrow, before understanding.

“I think I know why Harry did that. I'll talk to him later, to confirm, okay? Thank you for bringing his stuffs. However, where is Hedwig?”

“Miss Granger said she would take Harry Potter's owl with her,” the elf replied. “Familiar dislike transportation by elf. They only accept it at the beginning of the year.”

The warrior nodded.

“Thank you Dobby. You can go.”

The elf disappeared with a new crack, and Sephiroth turned with a sigh. Emma looked horrified.

“That was Dobby? The elf who tried to save Harry with his extreme methods?”

The silvery nodded.

“Yes. The situation is however much more complex than it seems, and it will take me some time to explain everything. When do you have to leave to fetch Hermione for that matter?”

Nathan glanced at the clock and winced.

“Given the situation, it would be better for me to leave now. I have to not only brave the traffic, but  _ also _ find a place to park. And I don’t want to make Hermione wait longer than necessary.”

“I understand. In this case, I will do a summary tonight, when she and Harry are asleep, if that suits you?”

Nathan nodded, grabbing his car keys, and headed for the door without waiting. Sephiroth let out a sigh as he looked at the trunk.

“I feel that the majority of Harry's stuff will end up in the garbage dump, if the condition of the clothes he has on him is representative. We will have to go see the Goblins, so that he can withdraw money.”

Emma frowned.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know exactly why Harry gave his money pouch to Ron, but from what I could understand, he must want to allow him to buy a new wand. From what I understood, Ron's wand was damaged when they crash landed with the car against the school’s Whomping Willow.”

Emma paused as she took out the equipment to make tea, shocked.

“Sorry? Crash landed? By _ car _ ?”

Sephiroth could not help laughing.

“To be exact, seeing that they could not get through the barrier, Ron had the  _ bright _ idea to borrow his father's flying car. If he had thought for two seconds, he would simply have to wait for him to come back out of the Platform and take them to school that way. Apparently, the car was not very complicated to drive, but the landing was another story. In addition, the car apparently decided to become wild later.”

Emma stared at him for a long moment, speechless. The more she heard about magic, the less she thought it had logic. And let’s not talk about wizards themselves. But a flying car? Who in addition decided to become wild? It was the icing on the cake. Sephiroth looked very amused at her expression, and she recovered. It was only missing that he announced that her daughter was the reincarnation of a warrior of ten thousand years ago, and it would be the cherry on top of it!

With a sigh, she got busy making tea, taking comfort from the familiar actions. She offered a cup to Sephiroth with a faint smile.

“I don’t know if it will meet your expectations, but it's the best I have at home.”

Sephiroth took the cup, thanking her with a nod.

“Quite honestly, I'm more coffee, especially in the morning. But I didn’t disdained tea the rest of the time. However... finding a good one was particularly difficult in Midgar, not to mention that it was usually expensive, because to find a good one, you had to import it from Wutai.”

“And coffee?” Emma asked with curiosity, settling in front of him.

Sephiroth took a sip of tea, noticing that while it wasn’t the best he had tasted, it was still more than adequate.

“Regarding coffee, it was unfortunately the same problem,” sighed the ex-general. “I wasn’t so concerned about the quality of coffee, though. What interested me most was the amount of caffeine it contained.”

“At that point?” Emma asked, dismayed.

Sephiroth snorted.

“My days usually began at dawn, and ended very late at night. And considering my metabolism, the quantities of coffee I was getting were quite... consequent. A normal human would probably have had heart problems a long time ago.”

His interlocutor shook her head with grief.

“And after that, they blame you for having snapped. With all what they put on your back, they wonder why you did a burnout?”

Sephiroth snorted again, cynical.

“The well-being of their employees was at the bottom of their concerns, I'm afraid. Even leaving the SOLDIER was a constant fight, and they continued to watch you for the rest of your life. The Turks... generally had a relatively short life expectancy. From the little that I saw... there is only one who has survived beyond forty. Most of their missions... could be described as suicide missions. Despite their training, only the best survived.”

“The Turks?” Emma asked.

“It was the Investigation Department of the General Affairs Department (or Department of Administrative Research). The Turks acted in the same way as an intelligence agency or investigative office, doing reconnaissance and espionage, or in darker operations, such as kidnappings or assassinations on behalf of the company. Their reputation is that they were real professionals, carrying out their mission whatever it is. Even if they had to kill their family, they would go to the end of their mission. Because of the nature of their work, the Turks were aware of many of the company's secrets, as well as the risks they would incur if they left it. That is to say, they could only leave the company when dead. Shinra had a lot of skeletons in its closet,” sighed Sephiroth, shaking his head. “I didn’t know most of these secrets until after my third death.”

Emma was disgusted.

“Visibly, this... Shinra behaved more like a mafia than anything else. Why did you stay?”

Sephiroth took a few seconds to understand the reference, and he let out a bitter laugh.

“A good analogy, especially concerning Shinra Sr. To answer your question... I've never known anything else,” he sighed. “And I think they did it on purpose. After all, how do you compare when it's all you've ever known? Even what Angeal and Genesis told me made little sense. Still, the worst individual in Shinra was Hojo.”

Emma shuddered at the venom with which Sephiroth pronounced the name. There was clearly bad blood between them.

“Who was it?” She asked bravely despite everything.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, regaining control of his emotions.

“It all depends on who you asked the question to. For the President, he was a great scientist. For the SOLDIERS... a mad, sadistic scientist who indulged in the torture of living beings. Even the Turks shared this opinion. It is because of him that I hate hospitals. They bring up too much bad memories. He had always presented himself as my father in his notes... which I now know was more of a bunch of delusional lies than anything else. There were some nuggets of truth inside, but in the mental state where I was at that moment... plus this... monster that was banging more or less literally at the door of my mind... I didn’t saw them.”

The silver-haired warrior ran his hand over his face with a tired sigh.

“One thing I remember is seeing my biological mother's name during my reading, along with Hojo's bird names. According to someone I knew, despite the fact that my mother was married to Hojo, there is a very good chance that another person would be my father.”

“Which would explain the insults indeed,” confirmed Emma. “Do you have an idea who it is?”

“One of the people who stopped me the second time,” confirmed Sephiroth.

“By killing you,” Emma could not help but notice bitterly.

Sephiroth snorted with a mixture of amusement and bitterness.

“In the state where I was, they had little choice. Any attempt to reason with me would have been doomed to failure. Because of that... I don’t blame them. If I could, once my mind in one piece again, I would have probably thanked them I think. But they wouldn’t have listened to me. And I can’t blame them.”

Emma frowned.

“Yet you were not entirely responsible, from what you said to Hermione.”

“Not completely, no,” Sephiroth admitted. “But neither Cloud nor Tifa would have listened to me. Both lost everything when I collapsed nervously. I drowned their hometown in fire and blood, killing their loved ones. I was a hero for the people of Midgar and the continent… my fall from this pedestal was as brutal as it was spectacular. That I was not entirely responsible for my actions didn’t matter. And given the determination with which I tried to destroy the world… the resentment was anchored too deeply. I don’t blame them, for my part. I blame myself more for listening to this monster. I lost everything because of her... even my life.”

Emma looked at him with sorrow. She could glimpse the broken man behind the neutral and distant facade he showed to the world. She suspected that Harry must saw another side of this man, the caring protector/big brother. She wondered if he had only lowered his guard once... if anyone had touched his heart. However... even if they had decided with Nathan to welcome them to their house until they found a place to stay... it was a question too personal for her to ask. She decided to reorientated the discussion on a topic that might raise his mood.

“And your friends? According to another student at the school, it is more than likely that they reincarnated, according to Hermione's letters.”

It seemed to do the trick, because the smile that appeared on Sephiroth's lips was obviously happier. It didn’t fully reach his eyes, but she could see that the question had still make him come out of his dark thoughts.

“The student in question is apparently Luna Lovegood, and I'm pretty sure it's the reincarnation of a person I knew... and that I killed with my hands under Jenova’s control,” he admitted. “But she’s the most compassionate soul I've ever seen. She is probably the only person who had to cry  _ for _ me, with her boyfriend, and not  _ because _ of me.”

“You didn’t tell Hermione her name,” Emma said, curious and sad at the same time.

Sephiroth let out a sigh.

“I must admit... that even if she forgave me... I didn’t forgive myself. Even if I was not completely in control... it's partly my fault that Aerith is dead. And that she spent years of her after-life trying to counter the damage I caused to the Lifestream.”

“More from that monster, from what you said?” Emma objected. “And your friends?”

Sephiroth could not help but chuckle.

“Genesis... was at that moment either running after Zack, in the hope that his cells could heal him, or, after the Puppy bashed his ideas back in place with a sword to the face, sleeping.”

“Sorry?” Emma said, not sure she understood.

Sephiroth exhaled deeply.

“Hermione probably told you that Genesis was suffering from Degradation, right?”

“Yes, but she couldn’t explain to me what it was,” Emma said, frowning as she stood up and poured some more tea. “Was it a form of Progeria?”

Sephiroth blinked, puzzled, before frowning, searching the knowledge brought by the Lifestream. Unfortunately, medical knowledge was scarce and eclectic, and he had to quickly admit defeat.

“I'm sorry, but the name of the disease tells me nothing. Can you tell me more?”

Emma let out a sad sigh as she sat down again, taking a sip of tea.

“Children with the disease suffer from hair loss, joint pains, have very thin skin and hairless, suffer from cardiovascular disorders. They give the impression of an accelerated aging, and their stature knows a slow growth but their cognitive capacities are not altered at all. The disease usually occurs between 18 and 24 months old, and patients who suffer from it rarely exceed 15 years of life. Death is the result of premature aging in all cases.”

Sephiroth shook his head.

“Then no, it isn’t that disease. Similar, though, but different. Genesis and Angeal had received injections of dead Jenova cells, although the way they were integrated into their bodies differs. Angeal absorbed them naturally while he was in his mother's womb, while they were injected into Genesis while he was a fetus. As a result, Angeal's physical structure was more stable than that of Genesis.”

Emma looked at him, perplexed.

“Dead cells? But then... how have they integrated into their bodies?”

Sephiroth shrugged.

“That is the question. However, I am not a scientist, and I don’t know much about these cells, except that even "dead", they confer important regenerative capacities to their host... up to a point.”

“What happened?” Emma asked softly, seeing a flash of sorrow cross his features briefly.

Sephiroth's gaze was lost in his cup, the bittersweet memories rising to the surface.

“We... used to sneak into a virtual reality room used for training when the 2nd Classes were not here, to spar between us. One day... one of our sessions... degenerate. Genesis... has always desired my reputation as Hero. Personally... I would have gladly given him if I could. That day... he challenged me to duel one against one. Unfortunately... it seems that Jenova has... messed up with his mind, and it has degenerated badly. Genesis... even turned on Angeal, who had interfered when seeing that it was going out of control. Alas, when intervening, the sword he was using broke, and the point sank into Genesis' shoulder.”

Emma frowned, lost.

“Hearing you, it was a minor injury. Why has it caused so much problems?”

“In itself, the injury was actually minor,” confirmed Sephiroth. “The problem is that it did not healed, but worsened. Genesis kept saying that everything was fine... when it was not. When I heard he needed a transfusion, I immediately volunteered to be the donor. However... I was told that I was not compatible. Not knowing our blood groups... I took them on parole,” he admitted bitterly. “But now, knowing the truth about Hollander, who was behind the project that gave birth to my two friends... and who was competing with Hojo... I have serious doubts about it. I think they preferred... watch Genesis and Angeal Degrading, rather than heal them.”

Emma was disgusted.

“You didn’t exaggerate by calling them mad scientists. We are talking about  _ human beings _ , for heaven's sake!”

Sephiroth's laughter surprised her with it’s cynicism and bitterness.

“For Hojo, _ everything _ was an experimental subject... including himself. If I had known... at the time... I would have insisted. To come back to our subject... as I explained to Hermione, Genesis ended up deserting, on the orders of Hollander, who had claimed to be able to heal him. However... he regarded Genesis as a failed experiment, unlike Angeal... who would possibly be his son, apparently. He considered that Angeal was a success... even if I don’t know what he thought about the fact that he committed suicide.”

Sephiroth took another sip of tea, but his mind was far from it.

“I have received many orders to stop my friends, by any means possible.”

“And what did you do?” Emma asked softly, respecting his melancholic mood.

Sephiroth let out a faintly amused smile.

“Oh, I just... misplaced the orders in the middle of all the paperwork I had to deal with. Sometimes I…  _ accidentally _ put them in my shredder... or "forgotten" when given to me verbally. After all, I was a…  _ very _ busy man. And you know the funniest? It is that  _ nobody _ ever made a comment on it.”

Emma snorted with irony.

“Otherwise, they would have admitted that they overworked you. And obviously, they did not want that.”

“That would have been too much bad publicity,” Sephiroth admitted with a dark amusement. “Their poster boy, overworked? The people of Midgar would certainly have revolted. Alas... if I could manage to ignore those orders... Zack was not like me. For him... being part of Shinra was like being a hero. He even fled from home to pursue this dream. I think it took him passing under Hojo's hands to realize how bad the company was from the inside. One thing that always amused me about Hojo, however, was that  _ no one _ called him by name if he was not present.”

“Never?” Wondered Emma.

“Never. Apart from the President and a few people,  _ everyone _ called him Dr. Creepy. Or Mr Sadist, depending on the situation. The majority of the scientific staff admired him,” sighed Sephiroth. “The people who... still had their humanity in this service were rare, and many lost what was left to them, or were fired... when they did not resign, or worse, ended up as guinea pigs.”

Emma remained speechless, horrified. She begged him with her eyes for him to tell that he was joking (although she would have thought it was really in bad taste). Unfortunately, she could see that he was extremely serious.

She closed her eyes with a sigh.

“What happened to Zack? He died, according to what you explained to me.”

Sephiroth sighed, nodding.

“For you to understand, I still have to talk a bit about Genesis and Angeal. As I told you, after they deserted, I was repeatedly ordered to stop them. Order to which I have always refused to obey. After a while, they changed tactics. Instead of sending them to me, they sent them directly to Zack. And Zack... did not have the mentality of disobeying. He was a good member, though. Despite his overexcited side, he was still able to perform his missions correctly. He did his best to try to help Angeal... who refused to take sides, despite everything. He never fully agreed with Genesis, although he tried to help him, but his honor refused to let him totally abandon the Shinra. Until the end, he kept one foot on both sides, until he forced Zack to kill him.”

Sephiroth ran his hand over his face at this memory, accepting a new cup with a nod.

“I still remember Zack's condition when he made his report. He managed to do it in one go while remaining impassive... and he broke down in tears on his chair when he was done. Angeal... was not just a mentor to him. He had also become a father figure or a big brother, I don’t know exactly. But they were close, and his death devastated him. Especially because Zack was forced to kill him. I... dealt with his death as best I could, but... he was one of my only two friends. I also remember the destruction of Banora... the hometown of Angeal and Genesis,” he said, seeing Emma's perplexed expression. “The city was overrun with copies of Genesis, and instead of wasting time and money to take it back, especially since there were many stolen robots patrolling it, they preferred to destroy it. As far as I know, apart from Genesis and Angeal, there were no survivors.”

“Copies of Genesis?” Emma asked puzzled. “What do you mean by that ?”

“Jenova's cells have the property of... conferring the powers of their bearers to the people to whom they are injected. Depending to the people... they keep more or less their wills and their personalities. The copies of Genesis... were just puppets without will. I don’t know if it's the consequences of Hollander's treatment or Genesis's will. Probably a bit of both,” Sephiroth admitted, “since Hollander had apparently retained some of his own personality after injecting himself Genesis cells to survive, since the latter considered him useless after failing to heal him.”

“And Angeal?” Emma asked softly. “Did he also created copies, or is it only Genesis that did?”

“From what Zack told me... no, he didn’t actively create a copy. At least, not with humans. Monsters were another story. However... Lazard Deusericus injected himself with Angeal cells for a reason that escapes me. He basically wanted revenge on Shinra.”

“Why? He had a high position,” objected Emma. “Why would he want to take revenge on his employer?”

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

“He was one of the illegitimate sons of the President. Rufus Shinra, his heir, was his legitimate son, and I learned that he also had a third son, also illegitimate. In addition, Lazard was born and raised in the Midgar Slums. He rose to his position as Director of the SOLDIER by a mixture of pure relentlessness and nepotism, Shinra Sr having placed him in this position... probably to avoid a scandal. Despite all his faults, Genesis was  _ always _ careful when flirting. As far as I know, he never conceived a child with any of his conquests. Even for one-night stands, he  _ never _ went out without protection.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“At least he was responsible. So, Lazard has become a copy of Angeal? And what happened to him?”

“He died,” Sephiroth replied softly. “Well after me, however, and after Angeal. Although Angeal apparently didn’t Degrade, Lazard yes. There was also a... canine copy? A kind of wolf covered with armor anyway. As far as I know... it stayed with Aerith until the last meeting between Zack and Genesis. After I lost my mind... Zack and Cloud ended up in Hojo's hands. They spent 4 years there, until the Puppy managed to escape from his Mako pod. Cloud... was in a comatose state. They fell on Lazard during their wanderings, and he accompanied them to Banora, driven by Angeal’s will, where there was the last fight between Zack and Genesis.”

“And he  _ really _ put his mind back in place with a sword?” Emma asked, skeptical.

Decidedly, what did men have to absolutely want to solve their problems by violence? Certainly, they had an excuse, in that they had an alien who made a mess of their minds. But still! Sephiroth looked almost amused, as if guessing her thoughts.

“Jenova made a lots of problems. Angeal was released from her influence at his death, probably because she must have thought him useless. Genesis... was purified by Minerva herself. Unfortunately... he was used as a "donor" by Deepground, a secret branch of the SOLDIER, after he refused to join them. He then sealed himself in a cave under Midgar, waiting to be needed one day, according to what he explained to me.”

Emma laughed softly.

“I guess he didn’t appreciate being moved to another world?”

Sephiroth joined her in her amusement.

“That's a euphemism. He ranted, moaned and cursed for a little while when I woke him up and he realized that we had changed world. I told him to see that with Angeal, because he was the one who was partly responsible. One thing is certain,” the silverette sighed softly. “I don’t think I could ever repay my debt to him.”

“Your debt?” Emma asked. “What do you mean?”

“After our respective deaths... and while I was trying to destroy the world... Angeal spent months, maybe even a year, looking for the fragments of my soul to reconstruct it. He is also the one who immobilized the nucleus reconstituted by Jenova while Aerith and Zack reconstructed it completely. I would be eternally grateful to him. And I couldn’t save them,” sighed Sephiroth.

Emma reached out and gently patted his forearm, making him look up. She offered him a sad but compassionate smile.

“According to what you said to Hermione, you couldn’t have done anything. Their attackers had literally blocked your access to magic. Genesis... could only defeat most of them at the cost of his own life, was it not? You couldn’t have done better any better then him, right?”

Sephiroth could only nod.

“My own abilities are derived from the Lifestream as well. They are more powerful than theirs, because I have received living cells, but they remain similar. However, I don't really need Materia to do magic anymore. They allow me to save energy, but given my reserves... it's not really necessary, unless we're in a world where they cannot connect correctly to the local Lifestream, or whether it is healing magic or protection. Destroying is easy,” he explained to Emma's perplexed expression. “Protect or Heal, however…”

Emma nodded. She then looked up to see the clock, and was startled by the time. They had talked so much that she had not seen the time pass, and she had to start dinner. However... Hermione, in her letters, described Sephiroth's appetite as worse than Ron's. At least the ex-general had table manners, unlike the boy. However... they would certainly have to go shopping more regularly if they stayed at home for a long time.

She stood up again, attracting the attention of the warrior, who looked at her, intrigued.

“Seeing the hour, it's time for me to start preparing dinner. Do you see a disadvantage in helping me?”

The silverette laughed, amused, also getting up.

“I'm not Genesis, Emma. I may not be as good a cook as Angel, but I can follow a recipe. Just give me time to put Harry's trunk in the room he's in, and I'll help you.”

Emma nodded with amusement, and let him go. She blinked when she saw him lift up Harry's trunk as if it weighed nothing at all. The trunk might not be as heavy as Hermione's, but it should not be light! Shaking her head, she returned to dinner preparation. She had already decided to do something different than Hogwarts did, Hermione was not really a fan of the foods they served at school. She just hoped it would please Sephiroth too. On the other hand, she would have to review the quantities on the rise, if what her daughter had said was right. At least, their guests were not refine and picky dish eater, apparently. It was already that.

Meanwhile, the silver haired man silently dropped the trunk at the foot of the bed where Harry was sleeping. The boy hadn’t even stir, and Sephiroth shook his head with a touch of amusement. Well, the poor boy had had a horrible day. That, plus the painkillers, no wonder he's still out. He decided to let the boy sleep, he would wake him up at meal time. Closing the door behind him, he slowly descended the stairs, going to join Emma in the kitchen.

Marking a pause in the doorway, he waited for Emma to notice him. She finally saw him, and offered him a smile.

“Come on, you'll be able to help me prepare the salad. I hope you have nothing against raw vegetables?”

“On the contrary,” replied the silverette, joining her near the worktop. “I must admit that I have a preference for green vegetables, and the kitchen of Hogwarts was sorely lacking them in meals. I can thank my high metabolism indeed, or I think that given the quantities I have to swallow daily, I probably would have taken a few pounds.”

Emma snorted with amusement as she heard that.

“I suppose you'll be glad to know that Hermione is not a fan either, and I rarely make those when she's here. On the other hand, what did you mean to say about the fact that you weren’t Genesis?”

Sephiroth burst out laughing as he dexterously cut tomatoes.

“Have you ever heard the phrase "burn water" Emma? It sums up Genesis in the kitchen perfectly. He was not just a pyromaniac in combat. As a result, Angeal forbade him to touch the kitchen. Genesis was an expert when it came to making things burn, but cooking…”

“How did he do when he was alone?” Emma asked, amused.

Sephiroth slid the tomatoes into the salad bowl, before seizing what was apparently a cheese.  _ Mozzarella _ , he absently read before answering Emma's question, cutting the cheese into dice as instructed.

“Genesis was rarely alone, but if Angeal was deployed in combat without him, he'd invaded my home to eat... or order take-out,” Sephiroth said, rolling his eyes. “After Lazard and his predecessor gave him a scolding, and the cost of repairs deducted from his pay the few times he tried to cook himself... he gave up all forms of cooking.”

Emma burst out laughing.

“He set fire to his own apartment?”

Sephiroth nodded with amusement.

“At least three times in the beginning, when he was promoted high enough to have his own home. Two more when he tried to "help" in cooking at mine or Angeal’s.”

Emma shook her head with amusement.

“And during your travels? I imagine that the only participation you allowed him was to light the fire, right?”

“Exactly,” replied Sephiroth, chuckling. “A common friend nicknamed him "Pyro Commander".”

Emma almost asked who it was, thinking that maybe it was Aerith. But the expression of sorrow and pure pain that stealthily crossed Sephiroth's face made her realize that it was probably not her. Turning the conversation aside, she asked him if he could grate the carrots. Drawn from his dark thoughts, the ex-general complied, Emma deliberately talking about Harry and Hermione, helping him to anchor in the present and stop mulling over the past.

They continued to talk about the children during the meal preparation, until they heard the front door open, and precipitated footsteps. Sephiroth put down the ingredients and the knife he had in his hands, before teleporting just behind Hermione as she climbed the stairs four at a time, catching her gently by the collar. Nathan gaped, blinking in amazement. Okay, what?

Hermione raised her head as she was lifted off from the floor, surprised, and met Sephiroth's half-amused, half-stern gaze.

“Hermione, I guess your father had to tell you that Harry was doing relatively well, yes? And that he needed rest?”

The girl blushes.

“I know but…”

The warrior set her gently on the ground, seeing that he had at least got her attention.

“I'm not against the fact that you go see him, but quietly, okay? Let him rest for the moment.”

Hermione nodded, and went in direction of the bedrooms, walking normally this time. Satisfied, Sephiroth returned to the kitchen, laughing internally at the shocked expression of Nathan and Emma, who had seen him disappear and reappear in a cloud of black smoke. His amused question about what she wanted him to do now rebooted her brain, and she asked him what he had done.

“The teleportation mode of wizards is called Apparition, and, honestly, from the information transmitted by the Lifestream, it has little to do with mine,” he explained calmly, resuming what he was doing at the time Hermione and her father had arrived.

“That is to say?” Asked Nathan, who had come to join them, serving himself a glass of fruit juice.

He would not have been against a little alcohol, but it was still too early for that.

“Apparition requires focusing on three things almost simultaneously,” Sephiroth said, mixing the dressing carefully. “They are nicknamed the 3 D, because of the first common letter to each thing: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. The problem is the danger inherent in this mode of transportation.”

“What danger?” Emma asked, placing the roast in the oven.

“The... splinching,” Sephiroth replied, stumbling slightly on the strange name, without their noticing. “Basically, the person leaves pieces of their body behind them if they are not determined enough. For this reason, you have to... get a license? To Apparate. In addition, the sensations are apparently very unpleasant, judging by my experience with Dobby. My own teleportation is different, as you can see.”

Emma nodded, wiping her hands and starting to take out the plates.

“Yes, you... disappeared in a sort of black smoke cloud. I guess the sensations are different?”

“Like Day and night,” Sephiroth confirmed, leaning against the counter. “However... describing them is not easy. With Dobby, it was... like being compressed in a very narrow pipe. My own teleportation... is hard to define. How do you explain that... I feel... like... disassembling myself, before reassembling myself to my destination. The sensation is... strange, but not really unpleasant. On the other hand, I never tried to discover my maximum range,” he added thoughtfully.

“There is a maximum range for teleportation?” Asked Nathan, curious.

“For Apparition, yes. The higher the distance, the more dangerous it is and the risks of splinching are higher. And it's even worse above water. As for my own teleportation, except for entering the Dursleys' house, I've never used it more than for short-distance dodging,” admitted Sephiroth thoughtfully. “Moreover, I was in a full fit of madness. My memories of that day... are both confused and crystal clear.”

Nathan and Emma exchanged a glance, and decided by mutual agreement not to push.  _ This _ day seemed to be a sensitive point for the silverette, and that clearly revived painful memories. Nathan spoke again, drawing Sephiroth's attention:

“In this case, why don’t you do tests this summer? We can take care of Harry during this time, and you won’t even need to be away for a long time. Are there other prerequisites for your teleportation?”

Sephiroth briefly pondered the suggestion. Nathan wasn’t wrong, indeed. Defining a range could be useful, just in case. Moreover, he hadn’t tried to test it in Hogwarts, where he would probably need it most. Realizing that Nathan was waiting for an answer, he nodded in his direction.

“You’re right for the tests, Nathan. Thank you. And to answer your last question, even though unlike Apparition, I can do it blindly, it's always better to have a clear picture of your destination. I would not necessarily try to do it blindly, though. Too risky.”

“And how did you do it in Harry's house?” Asked Emma, curious.

“Scan Materia,” Sephiroth explained, removing the Materia in question from his bracer, showing them. “Above all, it allows you to know your opponent's state of health, his magic reserves, and so on. It requires a little practice, but using it to detect presences around you is perfectly possible. Evaluating the size of a room is a little trickier, but still possible.”

Emma took it in her hands with curiosity. The Materia was soft to the touch, a pale yellow that almost shone. She raised her head as she heard the amused voice of the warrior.

“You can try to activate it, Emma. It’s not dangerous.”

“Activate it?” Emma wondered, surprised. “But I don’t have magic!”

Sephiroth's laugh was sincerely amused, with no trace of bitterness or cynicism.

“Emma, what are Materia?”

The latter had to think to remember the answer. Hermione had told them about it, and, hesitantly, she replied.

“Crystallized fragments of Mako, which mean the Lifestream, why?”

“Mako is  _ raw _ magic, Emma. Whether you have it naturally like Hermione or Harry or not, it doesn’t matter. Materia gives you direct access to the source of magic, in a sense. Wands... are a more diluted form of magic, which require a magical core. I don’t know exactly why Angeal had so much trouble with Materia. He had will, but maybe not the right one?” Asked Sephiroth softly, almost to himself.

Emma looked at him in puzzlement, then shrugged. Deciding to try it, she focused on the crystalline sphere. Sephiroth gently spoke again, guiding her.

“Try to send your energy into Materia, Emma. Try to feel it’s presence.”

Emma lost the notion of time very quickly. The Materia didn’t even heat up, even if she was pretty sure to follow his instructions correctly. She felt that she was starting to tire, and frustration was also rising. Suddenly it was as if something was giving way, and she was overwhelmed by the information coming from Sephiroth and the Materia... before everything was abruptly cut off when the Materia was suddenly removed from her hands.

She faltered, and felt someone catching her. Faintly, she heard Nathan worrying in the distance, almost as if she were underwater. Sephiroth's answer seemed a little too calm for her taste, despite her somewhat cottony mind.

“Emma is just magically exhausted. I must admit that it was largely my fault for not having realized earlier that she was spending too much energy, but especially for giving her a Mastered Materia.”

Emma felt that Nathan coming to support her on the other side, and the two men helped her to sit on one of the armchairs, in which she fell down with gratitude. A glass of water appeared before her eyes, and she took it gratefully... or at least tried. Luckily, Sephiroth was visibly prepared for this, and caught it before it left her fingers. Handing it to Nathan, he let the husband take care of Emma.

“Is there anything special about a Mastered Materia?” Asked Nathan, helping his wife to drink, his tone a bit angry.

“Power, above all. There is also the number of spells you can access following the Materia, which ranges from two to three on average, at the mastered level. In the case of Scan, this is more the amount of information you can get with. And here, I guess Emma must have been... overwhelmed by the information she got.”

She was starting to regain her senses, and she absently thanked the sky in a corner of her mind for the fact that she had just put the roast in the oven. At least it wasn’t likely to burn. She nodded to Sephiroth.

“The information was also somewhat... incomprehensible,” said Emma, her voice slightly pasty, as if she were exhausted. “I didn’t understood much, probably because I'm not used to Materia, but I could understand that you were... particularly powerful.”

Sephiroth nodded.

“Exact. Moreover, you have apparently managed to activate it almost to the maximum of its power. It's a good thing that I gave you a Materia that could not do any damage in the house,” he added, not without humor. “I do not dare to imagine the damage with a Fire or Ice Materia. You could have rivaled Genesis.”

Emma could not help but snort.

“I don’t know if I should feel flattered to be compared to that pyroman. Is there a risk if he reincarnates?”

Sephiroth laughed.

“Whether he's flirting with you, or throwing fireballs in your house?”

“Both,” Nathan grumbled.

“The answer is no,” says Sephiroth, without hiding his amusement. “Despite his womanizing side, when Genesis knew his... "target" was married, he gave up immediately. And yet, I have sometimes seen married women insist. But unless they manage to divorce their husband for  _ good _ reasons, he has always refused. He still had certain principles.”

“And for fireballs?” Emma asked.

“Genesis was educated by a fairly wealthy family. Manners... are something that his preceptors have insisted on. If he was invited to someone's house, he would put his Fire Materia in one of his pockets and not touch it his entire stay with that person.”

Nathan nodded.

“He had good manners, despite his explosive temperament,” said the dentist.

Sephiroth nodded.

“Before he deserted because of the Degradation... he was intelligent, charismatic, charming, had very good manners, was cultivated, even if obsessed by this damned Poem, and he put all his soul into what he was doing. And above all, he was loyal to his friends. One of the best allies you could hope for on the battlefield... and one of the worst enemies if you had the misfortune to be in the opposite camp.”

“As long as he was not trying to cook,” said Emma, amused, having almost recovered.

She was not yet able to dance the tango, as the saying goes, but she was at least pretty sure she could take care of the meal without making a mistake. And in the worst case, Nathan was there. The latter also went to check the state of the roast, he would not miss it being overcooked. Fortunately, the cooking progressed nicely, and the roast was not yet ready.

Sephiroth chuckled.

“I must admit that it was a recurring joke between us, Emma. Of course, given his dramatic nature, it was always very amusing to see him protest with exaggerated frills. I'm pretty sure he did it on purpose, by the way. It was sometimes a little too strong to be credible, even for me.”

Nathan chooses this moment to return to the living room.

“Well, the roast is not quite ready yet, but the time to eat the entree, it should be. On the other hand, next time, can I ask you to avoid Materia of too high level, Sephiroth?”

The silverette nodded with amusement.

“I have a copies of just about all my Materia at Level 1 as well. Some of my Materia are also about to reach the Master level, I could use the babies to teach Magic to Emma or Hermione if they wish. No Summons however, unless they are ready to go in the middle of the forest.”

“Babies?” Repeated Emma.

“The forest?” Nathan asked at the same time. “Why?”

“Most Summons are... quite imposing. Only a minority is human size. A Summon also tends to be very flashy, so if you invoke them, you can forget the discretion. To top it all, they take a lot of magic to activate, compared to other Materia.”

Nathan glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost time for dinner.

“Why not discuss it around the meal?” He suggested. “It sounds like a subject that would interest Hermione.”

Sephiroth nodded.

“Do you have a problem with me going to fetch them?”

Nathan shook his head.

“No, and then it seems that Harry is your responsibility now, according to Hermione, is it not?”

Sephiroth let out a sigh.

“I chose to take him under my wing... also figuratively as literally,” he said, not without a little dark humor, “because he needed it. I suppose... that I will have to see with the Goblins to have papers that will pass the examination of the authorities. Mine... are somewhat...  _ outdated _ .”

Emma chuckled as she stood up again.

“After ten millennia, the opposite would be surprising. Nathan, where is Hedwig?”

“I think… she had to enter Harry's room,” Nathan admitted. “Hermione released her when we got home, and she headed straight for Harry's room. Speaking of which, is the second guest room ready?”

Emma shook her head.

“No, I haven’t had time to do so,” she admitted, a little embarrassed. “We talked a lot... after you left.”

“If you don’t have anything prepared yet," said Sephiroth, "do you have a cot? I would rather stay with Harry. At least for the moment.”

Nathan and Emma exchanged a brief glance, and decided by mutual agreement to accept. For the moment… Harry needed Sephiroth to be near him. The boy seemed to be dependent on Sephiroth, and if that could be a long-term problem, in the short term it was probably what the child needed. Moreover, the couple doubted that Sephiroth let Harry depend too much on him. Strategically speaking, it was dangerous.

“We don’t have a cot,” Nathan admitted, “But I have an inflatable mattress somewhere in the attic. I’ll go get it after the meal.”

“In the worst case, I could do without it,” says Sephiroth, amused enough. “I already had to sleep in much worse circumstances, I can assure you.”

“Not under our roof,” said Emma firmly. “And then, you did your best to protect Harry. I guess in the future, you'll be looking at Harry's stuff to avoid surprises like that?”

“Absolutely,” Sephiroth said firmly. “Even if I doubt to let Harry go back to Hogwarts, unless  _ Minerva herself _ orders it.”

Nathan paused at that, surprised.

“Minerva herself? You mean... the very consciousness of the planet? Why would she intervene?”

“Who knows,” Sephiroth replied, shrugging his shoulders while heading to the bedrooms. “But after what she did for me... I would probably listen to her. No happily, but I would listen to her anyway.”

And no one refuses the orders of a goddess in any case... was the sentence that remained silent. Because it went without saying. Sephiroth went up the stairs in silence, and poked his head in the crack of the door. A smile escaped him in front of the scene that presented itself to his eyes. Hermione was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Harry's hair, who was still sleeping.

She raised her head as he entered, and he saw that she had tears in her eyes.

“How can anyone be so cruel to a member of his own family?” She whispered softly, not to wake Harry.

Sephiroth shook his head gently.

“Unfortunately, you ask that to the wrong person, Hermione,” he said sadly. “I was " _ educated _ ", so to speak, by a man who claimed to be my father, but who spent my childhood torturing me in the name of science. This kind of relationship is all I have known. In a way, I am well placed to help Harry. I know suffering.”

Hermione stood up and, to his great surprise, wrapped her arms around him. He had ever known only one person who could thus come into physical contact with him. Most people... did not dare to approach him. Even with Genesis and Angeal... physical contact was limited to certain specific circumstances. Hermione spoke, pulling him from his thoughts:

“ _ No one _ should suffer like that,” she sniffed.

Sephiroth caressed her back gently.

“A person I knew also said that. She also said that it was not because one could bear the pain that one  _ deserved _ to suffer, even in the place of another.”

Hermione nodded, releasing her grip to look at him with big sad eyes. She did not know why, but Sephiroth's words seemed almost familiar. As if she had heard them somewhere. And, from her point of view, they made sense. Part of her didn’t want to leave his embrace. It was both familiar and reassuring. Even at Hogwarts, she felt safe in his arms. And nothing but his words were needed to reassure her. Why?

Her train of thought was gently interrupted by Sephiroth, who released her. Almost regretful, it seemed to her. He would have liked to keep her in his arms, but he knew she was still a child, at least physically. And even if she reminded him of someone, as long as she hadn’t woken up and his suspicions were confirmed, or she hadn’t reached her majority, he wouldn’t try anything. It wouldn’t be... morally right. And if you could blame him for a lot of things, being attracted to children was not part of it.

“The meal is ready, Hermione,” he said softly instead. “I guess you have to go change, right?”

Hermione nodded with a sigh. She gave one last worried look at Harry before leaving the room. Since Harry had saved her life in their first year, she had become friends with him and Ron, but especially him. She tolerated Ron more than anything else. After all, it was his fault that she had ended up in that bathroom. Harry had quickly become a best friend/little brother for her, who was an only child. She knew that her parents had tried to have another child, but their hopes had never borne fruit. Loneliness had sometimes been stressful at school, her intelligence having quickly put her away from others, and she had never really had real friends. Harry had been her first friend. Ron... was more a leech than anything else. At least Harry was politely asking for help with his homework. And according to Madam Pomfrey, Harry had come to see her almost every day, unlike Ron.

Sephiroth watched her leave with a touch of sadness. But there was also gratitude in his heart. Hermione seems to be a loyal person, who would stay with her friends to the end, like Angeal. Ron... he wasn’t so sure. The boy had potential, it was certain... at least, if he decided to get his head out of the ass, as she would have said. The thought snatched him a smile. The trust she had given him had sometimes surprised him... but even in the end, she said that she didn’t regret anything.

Shaking his head gently, he decided to wake Harry up. The boy was likely to have a short night, even with painkillers. But well, he wasn’t going to deny him some rest, especially after what he himself had experienced. Gently, he shook Harry awake. The poor boy woke with a start, frightened, before calming down seeing that it was only Sephiroth. The silverette gave him a reassuring smile.

“Slept well?”

Harry nodded, rubbing his eyes.

“What time is it?” He asked, still half asleep.

“Dinner time,” the silverette replied, helping him stand up when seeing that Harry had the reflex of trying to use his injured arm. “Harry, as long as the doctors haven’t given the green light, I don’t want to see you use your right arm, am I clear?” He asked softly but firmly.

Harry blushed.

“But I'm fine,” he protested, before blushing even more in front of the flat look of his protector.

“Harry. You talk to someone who has been used as a human guinea pig for most of his life,” said Sephiroth softly, but in a tone that did not suffer any argument. “I know that " _ I’m fine _ ". You’re clearly  _ not _ doing fine. I can understand that with " _ them _ " you were forced to swallow your pain and continue standing, even when you suffered agony. But I'm not them,” he added, his tone softening. “You will never have to play comedy with me, or with Hermione and her family.”

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, unable to answer, then felt the tears begin to flow. He was vaguely aware that Sephiroth was taking him in his arms, a firm yet gentle embrace, obviously aware of his wounds. It was the first time anyone had worried about his health. That he was told to stop pushing himself. At the same time, Sephiroth had lived much worse. He knew what he was talking about.

Finally, he managed to stop crying. He realized that Sephiroth was rubbing his back, and even though part of him was panicked because of the contact, the rest felt comforted in the embrace. Because he felt that if he really wanted to, he could get away. In the end, it was Sephiroth himself who put an end to the embrace. Knowing that he should help Harry change himself.

The boy was a little uncomfortable in front of the help, but Sephiroth had been clear. With his wounds, he didn’t want to see him push himself. Opening the trunk, he let out a cluck of tongue in front of the things that were there. Yes, a shopping session was clearly needed as soon as possible. With a little luck, Emma would not have any problem accompanying them to London. He just hoped it would not be a problem with her work. Shaking his head, he selected the best clothes he found, and sighed. If he had had Genesis' talent with Materia, he would have tried using Mini to make the clothes fit a little better to Harry. Unfortunately... he didn’t have that precision. He was going to have to look for a wand and study the wizarding magic theory in his spare time. Oh, and carve a wooden sword for Harry, to at least teach him the basics when he was healed.

Pulling out of the trunk, he helped Harry change, checking that he had not forced too much on his leg. The bandages had to be changed, but he decided that he would do that after the meal, when Harry would go to bed. Once the boy in clean clothes, he helped him to stand up and down the stairs.

Downstairs, they found a Hermione smiling at Harry, hugging him carefully. Harry realized that he missed the bear hugs, where Hermione was holding him tightly, but these too were nice. He greeted Emma and Nathan again as they arrived in the dining room, a little embarrassed at having been in too much daze at the hospital to greet them properly. They dismissed his apology with a laugh, assuring him that it wasn’t a problem, and that they didn’t blame him. They understood.

The meal surprised Harry by his friendliness. Among the Dursleys, even when he ate with them, he was usually ignored, at best. At worst, he was degraded, even struck if he dared to say something that didn’t suit them. And trying to talk about magic was the kind of subject that would instantly earn his uncle's wrath.

Here, not only could he speak, but his opinion was even sought. He couldn’t help laughing when he heard Emma's misadventure with a Materia. He laughed even harder as he imagined the wizards' heads if their wands behaved like Materia, and produced another wand when they reached their maximum level. Emma's expression on hearing that Materias were " _ reproducing _ " had been hilarious, and even Hermione and Nathan had burst out laughing. At least Emma understood better why the ex-general had talked about babies. Sephiroth himself had admitted to not understand the logic of Materias “ _ reproducing _ ”, and that wasn’t a question he had asked Minerva.

Emma had asked some questions about Minerva, but Sephiroth could not really tell her much. He had never really met her in person, only her interim’s, Zack and Aerith. Genesis was the only one who saw her directly, and he couldn’t remember hearing her speak. Sephiroth had told his story to Harry and Hermione, but he had stayed away from the darkest passages. Or sensitive.

At one point, almost shyly, Emma had asked him what he had mean about literally taking Harry under his wing. So Sephiroth explained this particularity of Jenova's cells. The wing they had developed... or wings in the case of Angeal. Slowly, Hermione had timidly asked if they could see it.

At one time, Sephiroth would certainly have taken offense. Before meeting  _ her _ , it was even a sure thing. But all he saw in their eyes was an almost childlike curiosity. Even Harry was looking at him like this. So he accepted. Fortunately, the living room was big enough for him to unfold it, so when the meal was over, they moved into that room. Quickly assessing the size of the living room with a look, he positioned himself where he could unfold his wing without touching anything.

Closing his eyes, he focused on his wing. He let out a hiss, inaudible to the human ear, as it unfolded. No matter how many times he did that, it was always painful when it went out or in. And yet, with what he had suffered as a child, he was desensitized to most pains. He heard the exclamations of surprise from his " _ public _ ", even if they had been clearly stifled.

He slowly opened his eyelids, and met the gaze of the Grangers. None of them seemed terrified or disgusted. On the contrary, even. The children, in any case, had a look of wonder. He felt a weight leave his heart as they didn’t reject him.  _ She _ had told him that some might accept it. However... his life had been so filled with mistrust and rejection that he was struggling to believe it. Yet... she had never lied to him. She had always been as honest as possible. If she didn’t know something, or she wasn’t sure, she would tell him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Harry, who had timidly approached.

“Can I touch it?” He dared to ask, his big emerald green eyes looking at him imploringly, looking for once like the child he was supposed to be.

And how could he say no to such a look? Gently, he lowered his wing so that Harry could touch it without having to stretch. The boy's left hand timidly passed through the feathers, tickling him slightly. Hermione approached, and he gave her permission a smile. The amazed gaze of the children was a balm to his heart. Both were way too mature and serious for their age. But there, for once, they finally looked like normal children.

Harry's yawn caught his eye, and he realized the poor child was starting to tire. He retracted his wing, making feathers fly everywhere, and Emma stifled a chuckle. He gave her an amused smile, laughing softly at the disappointed look of Hermione.

“Sorry Hermione, but Harry clearly needs to go to bed. And you too, I think,” he added, seeing her yawn too. “Either way, we won’t go anywhere without one of you in the next few days. So don’t worry, okay?” He asked gently.

Hermione nodded and after a last hug to Harry, went to bed. Nathan gave a bag containing what was needed to take care of Harry's wounds to Sephiroth, who thanked him gently. Following Hermione, he helped Harry up the stairs. He didn’t lie to the police when he said he had first aid bases. Sometimes the body was too saturated with magic, and nature had to be taken over. Especially with the SOLDIERS, whose body was generally saturated with Mako. So yes, it accelerated healing, but even it had its limits.

Helping Harry to put his pajamas on, he pulled up the pant leg up. Yes, Harry definitely needed a new wardrobe. And he too, for that matter. Removing the bandage stained with blood, he nodded with satisfaction at seeing that the wound didn’t look bad. He cleaned it quickly, and put a clean bandage on, before making Harry swallowed the medicine.

The boy didn’t resist, almost submissively, noticing with humor that at least the pills didn’t taste as bad as the potions he had had to swallow. Sephiroth laughs softly as he hears that.

“I can assure you that even in my day, they had a foul taste. The Ethers were pretty much the only ones with a fair taste, and that’s all. I think it's a rule of all healers, to make healing potions disgusting.”

Harry laughs weakly, lying on the mattress. He felt Sephiroth tuck him in, running his hand through his hair. He could get used to it, he thought absently as sleep creep in. He hoped that Sephiroth would continue this ritual in the future. It was reassuring. It was his last thought before falling asleep, reassured.

Sephiroth looked at him for a few minutes, making sure he was asleep, before silently stepping out and closing the door without a sound. He had promised Nathan and Emma an explanation after all.

They were waiting for him in front of the kitchen table, glasses of alcohol in front of them. Something told them that the discussion would deserve it.

_ To be continued... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! Another chapter done!
> 
> Harry is now safe at Hermione's, and he'll spend the summer there. I don’t know yet if I would make them go in search of a house immediately, but the visit to the Goblins will be in any case in the next chapter.
> 
> Another heavy chapter in explanations, but the next will be a little lighter.  
> Keep an eye out for clues! ;) - Fumseck_73
> 
> *cooing* Harry is a cute little kitten ^^ - Dragonqueen909


	6. Secrets of the Present

Sephiroth let out a smile when he saw the couple in front of their glasses of alcohol. A third glass was even there for him. He sat in front of them, looking at Nathan.

“Did Emma tell you what I told her?”

“No,” Nathan said, shaking his head. “She will explain to me later. I think the priority is the subject we talked about just before I went to get Hermione.”

“The house elves,” sighed Sephiroth. “Above all, you have to remember one thing: magic does  _ not _ have logic. Or rather, it has its own logic. And most importantly, there is a price to pay to use it. You were able to realize this, Emma.”

She nodded.

“My energy, right?”

“Among other things,” Sephiroth confirmed. “For us humans... it's our magical energy, that everyone can use without a wand, different from wand magic, and that wizards seem to have forgotten. Either that, or it was deliberately lost.”

“An idea of why?” Emma asked, taking a sip of Whiskey.

They had nothing stronger at home, and a part of her regretted it. But they had never really needed a strong drink. And they rarely drank anyway. Sephiroth rested his elbows on the table, crossing his fingers in front of his face, pressing them against his chin. He reflects briefly on the question, turning it over in his mind.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “I don’t know for sure what happened after I was sealed, and even the Lifestream didn’t offer me much information. What I know... is that the Black and White Materia posed a serious threat, each in their own way. Especially the Black. And from the little that I could learn... Minerva submerged the continents of Gaia, where the Lifestream surfaced freely, concentrating in Mako.”

“Submerged?” Nathan repeated, bewildered. “Like Atlantis?”

In front of Sephiroth's perplexed expression, Emma explained the famous legend. Sephiroth quickly analyzed it, and sighed.

“Emma... I think there's a chance this legend is actually about Midgar. Obviously... the Gaia survivors passed on this legend to their descendants.”

Emma rubbed her forehead.

“And over the millennia, the story has been distorted,” she sighed. “Down to the names.”

“Yes. And, apparently, my own name has been lost,” said Sephiroth softly, thoughtfully. “In a way, it's not a bad thing. I'll have to ask Hermione if she can tell me my own legend,” he says humorously. “I wonder if the names of Genesis and Angeal have been transmitted, though. That would please that diva,” he chuckled. “To know that his name was transmitted by legends.”

Emma let out a weak laugh. What they were talking about did not necessarily have a funny side, but the way he described Genesis was fun.

“All those deaths, though…” she added sadly. “I can understand that she doesn’t want these two Materias to fall into the wrong hands... but from my point of view... the method used is too radical.”

Sephiroth shook his head gently.

“You think like a human being, Emma. The gods do not live the same way as us, or at the same pace. Their rules are beyond our mortal understanding. They move according to their own rhythm and their own laws, which dictate when they intervene and don’t intervene in the affairs of mortals. And, it seems... they all obey the same authority. Which is even less conventional than others.”

“In which way?” Nathan asked, bewildered.

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

“In the sense that she sometimes likes to walk in wolf form on planets, apparently. It is to tell you how different they are from us. For us... the loss of these continents is a tragedy without name. For Minerva... probably a necessary evil. From my point of view... death isn’t so terrible, especially knowing that one day one is reincarnated. However... my education was not normal, and things like family are a bit foreign to me. I can understand the principle, but…”

“But you don’t really know what it's about,” said Emma softly.

Sephiroth shook his head gently.

“Not really, no. Angeal and Genesis have shared their experiences with me, but even like that... I cannot understand. And in a sense... it scares me.”

“You never wanted to start a family?” Nathan asked hesitantly.

Sephiroth let out a sigh.

“With Hojo? I was too scared that the person with whom I'd become a couple ended up as a human guinea pig... and believe me, with Hojo, it was perfectly possible. After that... there was one person... but she couldn’t have children.”

“Why?” Emma asked, her tone gentle and respectful.

“Before her world collapses... she had been sterilized. But from what she told me, it was the obstacle course. She really didn’t want to have children, any more than her boyfriend.”

“And what happened to him?”

“Dead,” the old warrior answered softly. “Devoured by the undead to allow her to escape. She told me herself... that the only thing that kept her going was the hope of finding her father and uncle. As well as her sister.”

“Something happened to them, isn’t it?” Emma asked, her tone saddened.

Sephiroth nodded.

“Killed by survivors. All this to seize their home. All Angeal could do was offer them a decent burial. As for her sister... they found no trace of her.”

A silence filled with contemplation for the dead stretched before Sephiroth shook his head.

“I think we have deviated somewhat from the original subject,” said the former general with a little humor.

Emma could not help but snort.

“It's the least we can say. Basically, you had to explain to us why Dobby was serving his old master.”

Sephiroth nodded, and took a few seconds to rearrange his thoughts.

“As I said, there is a price to pay for using magic. To differentiate magic with Materia from wand magic, from now on, I would call the first Mana for magic reserves, do we agree?”

Nathan and Emma nodded, and Sephiroth resumed his explanations.

“Each species must pay its own price to use magic. For some... it's at the cost of their intelligence, or other abilities. As far as the Elves are concerned... the price to pay is to serve.”

“Serve?” Repeated Emma, disconcerted.

“Serving,” confirmed Sephiroth. “But not in the slave sense, as wizards like to think. Rather in the sense of a symbiotic relationship, at least on the side of the Elves.”

“That is to say?” Emma asked, her sense of fairness somewhat offended by the wizards, who believed themselves above the law.

Sephiroth leaned against the back of his chair with a sigh.

“Elves... don’t produce their own magic, because they don’t have the magic cores of wizards. However... any form of life needs magic, the Lifestream more exactly, to live. Magic beings like elves have a sharper awareness of it than humans, but in the case of House Elves, they cannot survive alone. I don’t know the exact reasons, but if they don’t bond to a wizard, their life expectancy does not exceed two or three years. And it's a horrible death,” he added softly.

“In what sense?” Emma asked, horrified at hearing that.

“They’re slowly withering away, literally gnawed from the inside by a suffering that cannot be appeased, if they are released against their will by their master. The magical bonds have different levels of functionality, but in their case, if their master gives them a garment with the intention of separating from them... the bond is abruptly cut off. Malfoy... had made a big mistake with Dobby.”

“What mistake?” Said Nathan, refilling himself.

“The bond... or rather, the Pact between Elves and wizards, is two-way. In exchange for the service of the elves who take care of the home, that is all that is cleaning, cooking, etc., wizards have the obligation, no, the duty to take care of the elves by providing food and protection against the elements, and caring for them if they are sick or injured. Most wizards more or less respect their side of the Pact, even if they have forgotten the reasons for millennia. However... you know human nature.”

Emma nodded with grief.

“Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Give power to the bad people... and they will abuse it to commit the worst offences.”

“Malfoy belongs to this category. He clearly thinks that his money allows him to do what he wants. Abusing your own servant is one of them... and the worst part is that for most wizards it will look almost... normal. However... by mistreating Dobby... by ordering him to punish himself for minor things... he damaged his side of the Pact. As a result, Dobby was able to disobey him, and try to help Harry... with extreme means, but the intention was there.”

“The Elves can’t disobey an order from their master?” Nathan asked, disgusted by what he perceived as an injustice.

A slight smile appeared on Sephiroth's lips.

“Disobey, no. To interpret creatively the orders, on the other hand… that yes.”

“What do you mean?” Nathan asked, shivering slightly at Sephiroth's smile.

“Imagine a wizard abusing his elves asks them for a hot bath. If he doesn’t pay attention to his words... the elf will be happy to fill the tub with boiling water. Hot enough to cook. Or for example if he asks them to prepare the meal, the elves will prepare it so much in advance that when it is time to eat... the dishes will be completely cold if he doesn’t ask them to keep it warm. And so on.”

Emma snorted with a dark amusement.

“And I imagine that instead of treating their elves better, they prefer to take the trouble to give them specific orders?”

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

“This would be asking them to think about doing what's right, instead of what's easy, Emma. Wizards have developed an acute case of laziness, which was never fix. After all... why bother doing things with your own hands, while you just need to wave your wand to instantly get the result you imagine?”

Nathan shook his head with grief.

“What a bunch of idiots... out of laziness, they deprive themselves of the opportunity to learn from their mistakes... at least, for the most part, I guess?”

“Once they've mastered the spells they need... yes,” the silverette confirmed. “Their imagination is their limit, but since they hardly use it... their capacity for innovation has seriously atrophied. The fact that they are still stuck in the Victorian era doesn’t help, I must say. Their resistance to change is quite impressive, by the way. Worse than that of the Wutanese of my time.”

“Wutanese?”

“Think of a mix of China and Japan, and you'll get an idea of their culture," Sephiroth said. “Shinra Sr... did a lot of damage to their homeland,” he sighed. “They hated me, yes, but they respected me too. And believe me, winning their respect is not easy.”

“I see,” Emma sighed in her turn. “To get back to the House Elves... what's going to happen to Dobby now that he's free? From what you told me, without a wizard to bind himself to... his life expectancy looks very short, right?”

Sephiroth chuckled softly.

“Don’t worry about that, Emma. For starters, it was me, not Malfoy, who cut the bond. Moreover, Dobby  _ wanted _ to be released from his master. So it was a lot less traumatic for him than if he had stayed true to Malfoy.”

Emma snorted with contempt on hearing this.

“Serves him right. And Dobby?”

“Before anything else, I want you to promise me to keep it secret,” Sephiroth said, glaring at them. “This is his decision, and I intend to respect it.”

Emma and Nathan exchanged a puzzled look, wondering where he was going. However... they suspected it was important enough that he felt it necessary to ask them that promise. Not necessarily serious, at least they hoped, but clearly important. They gave their word to the silverette, knowing that he would not hide anything important, or in connection with the safety of children.

Satisfied, Sephiroth spoke again.

“Dobby bonded to Harry in the moments following his release. I don’t know exactly why,” he added, raising his hand to cut off their objections, “but you'll admit that anyone would be better than Malfoy.”

“That's right,” conceded Nathan. “Is it because of Malfoy that he looked so bad?”

“In part,” Sephiroth confirmed. “Moreover, from what I was able to glean in the Lifestream, the state of health of an Elf reflects the power of his wizard. The more powerful he is, the more healthy and powerful the Elf will be.”

Nathan chuckled softly.

“So I imagine that Malfoy is relatively weak in this case?”

“Most purebloods are,” Sephiroth said with amusement. “These idiots think that by avoiding the Muggleborns, whom they consider inferior, and marrying only between Purebloods, they reinforce the power of their magic.”

Emma almost choked on her drink.

“What?! But it's absurd! The smaller the genetic pool, the more problematic it is! Even in terms of resistance to diseases! And if ever a disease against which they have no resistance spreads? They will have no defense against it!”

Sephiroth could not help but laugh softly.

“Victorians, Emma, Victorians. You forget that they are more than a century behind you... while being convinced that they are far superior to non-wizards. They refuse to see it, and their Ministry does everything to reinforce this idea, but the vast majority of Muggleborns are magically superior to those who call themselves Purebloods. Not to mention that the last war caused the extinction of many families simply because they did not agree with Voldemort.”

Nathan shook his head in disgust.

“I wonder why McGonagall insisted that Hermione enter this world, in this case. Especially considering how  _ Purebloods _ behave towards those they consider inferior.”

Sephiroth rested his elbows on the table again, crossing his fingers and resting his chin on them, thinking.

“Probably the oldest reason in the world, Nathan: money. Purebloods also suffer from another problem, which strangely remains specific to their lineages: Squibs.”

“What are those?” Emma asked, puzzled, refilling his glass.

“People born almost without magic in a family of wizards,” Sephiroth explained. “Strangely, from research I did on my free time while I was watching over Harry at Hogwarts, the problem is never found in families who regularly bring new blood into their lineages, in the form of Muggleborns, or witches and witches with Muggles in their immediate lineage. But no, you will not find that in the history texts. It will also be necessary that I find a way to get rid of Binns,” he added thoughtfully. “This ghost represents a threat almost as serious to the education of the children as this useless Lockhart. Speaking of this impostor, I imagine you have not been reimbursed?” He asked, frowning.

Nathan shook his head, disgusted.

“Not even the smallest penny... or knuts, as the wizards would say. A quack to the end!”

Sephiroth snorted.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he had spent everything in expensive robes or hair products... that looked more like a wig, by the way. There was something that did not fit with his mane.”

Emma began to chuckle, barely missing choking again. It was already the second time she had almost choke on what the ex-general was saying, but she still preferred that reason. Once she had caught her breath, she sighed.

“With everything you've told me... I don’t know if I'll let Hermione go back to Hogwarts, Sephiroth. The problem is where to register her?”

The silverette shook his head.

“There are other schools Emma, however, they will not offer the same quality of education. And, even without knowing Hermione as well as you... I doubt that she can thrive anywhere else... and don’t think to remove her completely from the magical schools,” warns Sephiroth. “Not unless you want to forget everything about this world. Wizards are paranoid about keeping their world a secret,” he added, raising his hand to silence Emma. “They will not hesitate for a moment to erase your memory and totally block Hermione's magical core. It would be like losing one of her arm. Even if she doesn’t remember doing magic, she will always feel a sense of loss.”

Nathan looked at him in puzzlement.

“How can you know that? You couldn’t have live it yourself, right?”

Sephiroth shook his head, a little amused, realizing that he had spoken incorrectly.

“Not personally, no. But as I said to Hermione and Emma, I was sealed in a crystal made of Lifestream. Apparently, every time I was moved, the very matter of the crystal was renewed. And as you know, the Lifestream is made up of the souls of the dead. So…”

“Whenever your crystal was renewed, new information was add,” said Emma softly, nodding thoughtfully. “That's how you stayed more or less up to date, right?”

Sephiroth nodded.

“This is also why the information I have is so disparate, especially since the last time I was moved is almost a millennium ago. I guess Zack and Aerith still made sure it was renewed from time to time, but I must admit that I have avoided medical knowledge as much as possible.”

“Too many bad memories?” Emma asked with compassion.

Sephiroth nodded softly, his eyes clouded by his painful experiences in the labs.

“I grew up in a laboratory, Emma. The first time I saw the sky, the real blue sky, it was when i was about twelve years old. Until then, I lived either indoors, or I was in Midgar, where seeing the blue sky was a miracle. The pollution was such that the city was permanently covered with a gray veil of pollution. The stars were also invisible, and I remember my wonder when I saw them for the first time. Despite the horrors of war... this memory remains my best.”

Nathan shook his head.

“This... Hojo would have done well with Josef Mengele. As twisted as each other.”

Sephiroth looked up, surprised.

“Josef Mengele?”

“A mad scientist working for a totalitarian regime that looked a lot like Shinra,” Emma explained.

“The Nazis,” Sephiroth agreed, before developing before their surprised looks. “This... person who was dear to us came from a world very similar to ours as it is now. The Nazi regime was one of them. From what I can infer from the information of the Lifestream and what I saw myself... her world grew much faster than ours... and yet, in some respects, it was almost identical. I think it's only a matter of time before I have a hard time distinguishing them.”

“What year was it there?” Emma asked softly, respecting Sephiroth's desire to silence the name of this person, at least for now.

“2019,” Sephiroth replied slowly. “In any case, when we ended up there. We stayed there for about a year, before being moved to another world. I did not expect her to accompany us, however. Not that I would have refused her in any case, if she had asked.”

“Because she was blind?” Nathan asked, looking at Sephiroth with an impressed look as he saw that the alcohol didn’t seem to be working.

The ex-general confirmed with a nod.

“I think we were among the few men who didn’t want to abuse her,” he said softly. “The war and this kind of apocalypse really brings out the worst of the human being... like the best, by the way. But there, I really only saw the worst.”

"Have you had to save her often? Emma asked respectfully.

“Too much for my taste,” Sephiroth admitted with some anger. “It had come to the point where one of us was always with her when we had to restock food, or I was leaving Shadow Creepers in the area, and at least three with her, to make sure that she would be safe.”

“What?” Nathan asked, not understanding.

Sephiroth could not help but chuckle.

“If you  _ really _ want to see them, Nathan, I advise you to wait for an excursion in the forest. They are a bit too big to fit in your living room. Not to mention that they are pretty... scary.”

“Charming,” could not help but say Emma, starting to be pretty light-headed. “And you control them well at least?”

“Perfectly,” Sephiroth confirmed, amused enough. “But I think we should stop the alcohol for now,” he said, easily picking up the bottle from Nathan's hands, who blinked in surprise at the bottle's volatilization as he went to refill a glass.

The dentist raised his head, and watched Sephiroth finish his glass in one go, before closing the bottle, resting it on the table. He pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You hold alcohol well from what I see. Why not warn us?”

Sephiroth shook his head, amused enough.

“It's not so much a question of resistance as Mako,” he replied, amused. “It burns alcohol faster than I can ingest it. To be  _ really _ drunk, I probably would have to be able to swallow dozens of bottles of strong alcohol in less than five minutes, to counter the effect of the Mako.”

“Have you ever been drunk then?” Emma asked, envious enough, remembering the student parties.

“Once,” Sephiroth admitted. “Genesis... had wanted to celebrate something, I don’t remember what exactly. I still wonder how he managed to convince me to come. He had discovered a bar called Seventh Heaven, and the owner was a member of his fan club on Loveless. He also had a drink with the same name as the bar, and believe me, a glass was enough for the majority of people. Even the Wutaians, known for their resistance to alcohol, were rarely able to drink more than one without ending up on the floor.”

“To that point?” Nathan asked incredulously.

“That drink was not really alcohol,” Sephiroth explained. “It was more of a chemical cocktail than anything else, even though there was alcohol in it, designed to  _ knock out _ those who drank it.”

“And you got drunk with it,” Emma noticed. “How many glasses?”

Sephiroth had to think to answer him. His memories of that evening were not very clear in his mind... unlike the hangover he had the next day. Ah, that he remembered!

“Eight or nine?” He replied hesitantly. “I know that Genesis lost consciousness after his sixth, and Angeal held one more. I can assure you that the return has not been easy.”

The couple giggled at seeing his expression a little pinch.

“You couldn’t walk anymore?” Emma asked, amused.

"Yes, but not alone," Sephiroth confessed. “And let's not talk about Genesis and Angeal. I could have carry Genesis, but to carry Angeal, it was impossible. To tell you, he was close to two meters and had the build of a bodybuilder. I have the strength to carry someone like that, but not with another person at the same time.”

“You called for help I guess?” Nathan asked, chuckling under his breath.

“After using Transform to change these two idiots into Frog,” chuckled Sephiroth. “I called Tseng, the leader of the Turks and a longtime friend, so to speak, to the rescue to get back home. Genesis and Angeal in my pocket. Reno, another Turk, was also present, and he did not let them forget. He teased them with that for months, and even after that he reminded them again. Zack was the only one who did not really laugh about it, but it was because he grew up in a village surrounded by jungle, where monsters were living that turned you into a frog. They were called... Touch me, if I remember correctly.”

“What?” Emma asked, wondering if she had heard correctly. “Touch me? But  _ who _ , in the name of heaven, gave names to these monsters?”

Sephiroth shrugged.

“No idea. Still, he had a holy horror of frogs because of that, because these monsters also had more the appearance of a frog.”

The couple burst out laughing, irony was too high to do otherwise. Frog-looking monsters that turned you into frogs! The picture was hilarious, though Emma could not help but be sorry for Zack. The poor man must have a horror of everything that looked more or less like a frog. She wondered if it was transmitted in reincarnations.

“And how can we resume human form if we are transformed into a frog?” Nathan chuckled.

“By being touched again by Frog, either using a Maiden's Kiss, a flower that was also native to Gongaga,” developed Sephiroth, “or else using the spell Esuna, via the Cure Materia. However... it is extinct too. Many plants or creatures lived only on these continents, and disappeared with them.”

Emma thought for a moment, before asking a question that had been trotting in her mind since her daughter's first letters.

“Is it possible that the Goblins are part of the survivors of these continents?”

Sephiroth blinked in surprise, before frowning, in deep thought.

“That would be more than likely,” he admitted. “I must admit that Shinra didn’t really have information about them, except that they were monsters with an unfortunate tendency to theft. I don’t doubt, however, that they had a civilization, and also the ability to build boats. After all, they had inevitably found a way to reach their island.”

The couple nodded.

“Often, civilizations different from us are belittled to give the impression that we are better,” said Emma, shaking her head with sorrow. “The Amerindian civilizations are a perfect example of this, and today, they struggle to preserve the little identity they have left. It does not surprise me that Shinra did the same thing.”

“Humanity repeats the mistakes of the past,” Nathan added gently. “And, if what Hermione says is right about their history class... wizards are dangerously close to doing the same thing again. What is the point of always repeating the same things? Especially since he  _ only _ speaks about Goblins wars. And, strangely,  _ why _ would wizards have left the losers control of their money?”

Sephiroth snorted with contempt.

“For my part, I think it’s more than likely they have  _ lost _ all these so-called  _ Goblin rebellions _ . If not, why would they have given up control of their money? But their education encourages them to accept what is said in the press or by their teachers without thinking for themselves. Even Hermione begins to suffer from this problem. Harry... less. What he has experienced drives him to be suspicious of what he is told, especially after the lies the Dursleys told him. Why does Hermione have such blind faith in authority anyway?” He added with irritation. “It's dangerous for her.”

Nathan sighed.

“Well... did you notice that Hermione is extremely intelligent? Unfortunately, children can be particularly cruel to those who are different. Hermione... has long been harassed at school. And when she was not harassed, the others used her to do their homework. Teachers were often the only ones to defend her. I think you can see where I'm coming from.”

It was Sephiroth's turn to sigh.

“I think. We should get her to lose this habit, however. It's neither healthy nor safe for her. I fear for her future, at this rate.”

The parents could only shake their heads with grief. The former general was unfortunately right. They had never tried to correct this tendency in their daughter, because it had never been necessary until now. However... with all the problems he had pointed out in the wizarding world... it was urgent for them to teach a little mistrust to their daughter. She was certainly more mature than average for her age... but emotionally, she was stunted compared to others, because of her isolation in the middle of her books, and because of the harassment. Emma hoped that with Harry at home, their daughter would isolate herself less in her paper universe and try to make her discover things. Perhaps they could also help Sephiroth open up.

However, she suspected that only one person could actually push him to open up. And the way he said she been dear to them all... She suspected that if they had not necessarily concealed their relationship to the world, they probably hadn’t advertised it either. She shook her head. She had always thought that sex was a bit like religion: everyone was doing what they wanted behind closed doors, as long as no one was in pain and everyone agreed. Those who sought to impose their views on others were to be avoided.

She didn’t see Sephiroth as someone who would impose his will on others. Being in control, yes, after what he had gone through, but surely not imposing things on others. Not unless their life were at stake, and again. He would probably not prevent someone from learning from their mistakes, but if they died, it invalidated the goal.

She stood up, drawing the attention of the men, and grabbed the bottle, storing it. She then looked at them.

“I think we had enough depressing discussions for the day. Sephiroth, I guess you want to go to the Goblins as soon as possible, so that you can get some money so that Harry can have a decent wardrobe?”

The latter nodded with a sigh.

“Harry will surely insist on reimbursing you for your expenses in the hospital. I'm not sure we'll be able to divert him from this goal,” he added humorously. “If we can distract him long enough... maybe we'll make him forget?”

Emma chuckled.

“I'm not sure, Sephiroth. We can always try, however. I imagine you will also want a complete wardrobe?”

The silver-haired warrior stood up with a grimace.

“I'm afraid it's indispensable, unfortunately. All my belongings have disappeared for millennia, probably just after I lost my mind. I'm not sure today's humans have clothes like these... except maybe in Gothic shops,” he says humorously. “However, I'm not sure it's your cup of tea, Emma.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“You should try to wear something other than black, Sephiroth. Especially with the fact that you change your hair color for black. Why so much fascination for this color, by the way?”

“Because I saw only white, or almost, when I was a child Emma,” sighed the silverette. “In the end, I couldn’t take it anymore. It's also one of the reasons that I liked Genesis, despite his obsession with Loveless. Angeal was the only one who changed almost nothing in his SOLDIER 1st class uniform. The hue was more a dark night blue, but others preferred black.”

“You were allowed to customize your uniform?” Nathan asked, surprised, getting up in his turn.

Sephiroth nodded.

“The 2nd and 3rd Classes could not touch it, but the 1st Class could customize their uniform if they wished. Few chose to do so, however. But in mine and Genesis case... we easily attracted the attention of our subordinates, me with my hair, and Genesis with his scarlet coat and his sword of the same color. We were easily localized this way on the battlefield.

Nathan nodded slowly.

“It stands. However... I have no doubt that you still have much success with women, even if you had to dress like a potato bag,” he said humorously.

Sephiroth groaned in despair.

“Don’t tell me, Nathan. I still remember those hordes of fangirls running after us. Even Angeal was suffering from this problem. Yet he was known for his sense of honor. Genesis was having a lot of fun with his admirers though, especially if they were single. I think once he even managed to convince one of my admirers to come to his bed. Don’t ask me how, she was particularly obsessed with me. I never really understood why people are so obsessed with appearance,” Sephiroth said softly, shaking his head. “If there is nothing in the heart... why limit yourself to the physical? In addition... the beauty lasts only a time. If you only think about the appearance... the relationship will not last long.”

Nathan and Emma nodded.

“In any case,” said Nathan, “how about going shopping tomorrow? Even if you don’t want me to lend you clothes, you'll need at least one wardrobe, and Hermione cannot lend her things to Harry,” he says with humor.

Sephiroth could not help laughing.

“And I doubt you've kept clothes that old, Nathan. I suppose you will accompany us?”

The dentist raised his hands in surrender.

“I hate shopping sessions, Sephiroth. I don’t know if you have ever gone shopping with a woman, but you will be gone for the day. You will suffer,” he said with humor.

Sephiroth chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be out of place in this case. Honestly, if I didn’t know for sure that Genesis was a man, you'd be mistaken. He spent as much time in the shops as a woman on shopping trips. And he was particularly difficult, even when they had clothes in stock with his favorite color.”

Emma snorted with irony.

“A real drama queen, to hear you.”

Sephiroth burst out laughing.

“You have no idea, Emma. You have no idea. In any case, it is better to go to bed. I also have to deal with spells left on Harry to spy on him. With a little luck, Dumbledore is asleep.”

“And if he is not?” Nathan asked, before shivering at Sephiroth's expression.

Okay, clearly, it was better not to be his enemy… or on his list of people to eliminate.

“Let's say that if he tries to do something... the wizarding world will be left with one less wizard.”

Emma could only nod. After what had obviously happened to Harry… She wholeheartedly approved of Sephiroth's actions. She saw that he would not touch the innocent… but the culprits were another story. Nathan informed him that he had left the mattress in the second guest room, and that he would only have to inflate it. He had also taken some blankets and a pillow to make the bed, the silverette would only have to serve himself.

She and Nathan wished him a good night, and they retired to their room on the ground floor. A brief discussion sufficed for Nathan to decide that he would wait for Emma to have time to tell him what Sephiroth had told him. He also felt like he’ll need a nice drink for that.

Meanwhile, the silverette had gone back to Harry. Seeing that he was still sleeping, he nodded with satisfaction. Looking up, he met the golden eyes of Hedwig, who was still keeping an attentive vigil on the head of the bed. The snowy owl let out a “ _ prek _ ” in a low voice, as if conscious that Harry needed sleep, and Sephiroth nodded to her approvingly. He was almost certain that the owl was Harry's familiar, and the bond of magic uniting them was proof of that. He frowned, however, as he saw the number of spells destined to locate her on Hedwig. He was going to have to deal with those too.

Leaving the room, he entered the last room with an open door. The inflatable mattress was on the floor, still packed, and he nodded with satisfaction. Gently, he called Dobby. The latter materialized with a loud crack, and he grimaced. The Hogwarts Elves were able to apparate almost noiselessly, and he wondered if it was a consequence of Malfoy's weak magic. In any case, he would talk to him later. Studying Dobby critically, he could still see that he looked better. Seeing that the elf squirmed under his gaze, he decided to put an end to his suffering.

“Dobby, is Dumbledore asleep?” He asked softly.

The elf nodded his head furiously, his ears moving frantically.

“Yes, Mister Nightmare. Hogwarts told the Elves to tell Dobby that Hogwarts is responsible for making sure Headmaster Whiskers cannot hear alarms when spells are cut. Hogwarts takes care of the heirs, she said.”

Sephiroth shook his head, but thanked the school all the same. It took away at least a weight of his heart, to know that Dumbledore would remain unaware of the changes in Harry's life, at least until he returned to school. At least he was sure not to be disturbed. Squatting next to the inflatable mattress, he nodded, seeing that it was the kind that needed to be inflated with a bike pump, or equivalent. Dobby could do it while he's taking care of the spells on Harry.

Getting up, he explained to Dobby what he wanted him to do. Once sure that the elf was not going to do stupid things, he went back to Harry. With a frown, he debated whether he was starting with Hedwig or Harry. With a sigh, he decided for Harry first. At most, Dumbledore had probably assumed that Harry had sent a letter to Hermione when he arrived... or as soon as he could, he thought, pursing his lips angrily.

Squatting next to Harry, he began the long and painful task of cutting all the spells on Harry, except for the blockage on his magic. He  _ really  _ preferred to see a healer about it. If only because he preferred to at least know the consequences of the destruction of the block. He quickly lost himself in the task, barely paying attention to the appearance of the inflatable mattress in the room, the bed already made with sheets, a blanket and a pillow.

His frown deepened by seeing spells designated to block communications from owls beside some specific sources. He needed several minutes to fully analyze the spell, and swore softly between his teeth as he saw that this spell  _ completely _ blocked communications not coming from the Ministry of Idiots, as he liked to call it, Hogwarts, or an owl called... Errol? He frowned, wondering why such a specific name was woven into the spell. Sephiroth realized that he would have to talk to Harry about it... if only because he needed to know about these spells.

Another spell that made him pinch his lips was the one designated to  _ block _ the link with his family's house elves. In any case, it explained  _ why _ Dobby could not locate him after bonding with him. On the other hand,  _ how _ could he locate him the first time? He took a mental note to ask the elf at the first opportunity.

Finally, he came to the end of the spells on Harry. He sat up with a sigh, rubbing his neck with a grimace. Finally finished. For the boy, anyway. He rubbed his temples with a sigh. He would have to talk to him about it, but he didn’t see the boy returning to Hogwarts. Not with what he had found. Frowning, he studied the bonds of magic uniting Harry and Dobby, as well as Hedwig.

If he trusted what he had learned from the Lifestream, Harry should have had many other connections with his family's house elves. Alas... there was nothing. Sephiroth just hoped that they had bonded with Hogwarts... which would make their search easier, even if he doubted it... or they had found another family to which they were bonded. He really hoped that was the second answer, because otherwise... that was more deaths that could be attributed to Dumbledore.

With a sigh, he raised his head, crossing Hedwig's fierce gaze. The owl held his gaze unflinchingly, and he couldn’t help his lips twitch with amusement. A real familiar. Gently, he reached an arm for the bird, who blinked in bewilderment.

“Come, Hedwig,” said Sephiroth softly. “You also have many spells to watch you. Don’t worry,” he added, seeing her evil look, “I wouldn’t touch your connection with Harry. I have no reason to do so.”

The snowy owl blinked her golden eyes, then, without hesitation, jumped on his outstretched arm. Sephiroth rewarded her with a smile, and raised his arm, putting it at the level of her face. He studied her carefully, noticing many spells similar to those on Harry, except the magic block, since she didn’t needed. Delicately, he pinched the strings of magic, with the exception of the one common to all owls and postal owls. As it allowed them to find their addressee wherever they were, and if they weren't concealed by spells like those he had broken on Harry.

He had also noticed that there were variations of some spells on the boy, probably in case some were cut by an episode of accidental magic. Decidedly, this old manipulator had tried to ward off all eventualities. Sephiroth chuckled softly, thinking about that. His presence had been a major grain of sand in the gear of the well oiled plans of the wizard... or rather a rock of good size. Whatever Dumbledore's plans... he could just throw them all out now. Sephiroth would never get a child to fight... not after being a child soldier himself. He knew what it had been like.

Finally, he lowered his hand with a sigh, and brought his other arm closer to the headboard, leaving Hedwig to resume her vigil. Rubbing his face, he went to lie on the mattress with a sigh. He had been focused for so long with his magic sight that he had an headache now. Not as much as inside Hogwarts, but it was highly unpleasant. He dropped his hand against the mattress, turning to his side to sleep, but keeping an ear on Harry. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear him get up early to prepare breakfast for their guests.

Sephiroth fell asleep quickly, his education having pushed him to be able to fall asleep almost instantly wherever he was. Hedwig continued to watch him for a moment. If it had been for her alone, she would never have trusted him. But the Green had whispered that he was a good man deep inside him. He would take care of her chick. And, for the moment, she didn’t have to complain. She made a slight sound like a laugh. She almost pitied those who would hurt her chick or his friends. But they would only have what they deserved.

oOo

Sephiroth woke up softly, looking instinctively around him. It was a habit he could never get rid of when he slept alone in a place he did not really know yet. He relaxed as he saw that Harry was still sleeping. A glance at the window allowed him to see that it was probably still dark, and he groaned. He had always been a small sleeper, compared to most people, and it became even worse with the war. He had learned a maximum of techniques to maximize his sleep, and sleep as little as possible.

The ex-general got up with a tired sigh. In any case, he knew from experience that he would not be able to go back to sleep. Not like Genesis, who could sleep like a rock when he decided. Even Angeal could sleep longer than himself. But they had a normal life. Yet... he could not envy them. He knew it was useless to compare their lives. Everyone lived the best he could, and if some could claim to have had a shitty life... it was useless to want pity. He didn’t want it anyway. He had always kept his head high, and refused to submit to anyone... except Minerva. Refusing to submit to a goddess... could lead to any kind of inconvenience. He preferred to avoid thinking about it.

Listening, he noticed that everything was still quiet in the house, which did not surprise him, given the probable time. Sighing again, Sephiroth sat cross-legged, and began to meditate to pass the time. A watch wouldn’t be too much, he thought absently. He should think about buying one... in addition to the one for Harry. His had clearly lived better days. It was even surprising that it still works... and in total contradiction with the " _ muggle objects don’t work at Hogwarts _ " rehashed by wizards. Sephiroth wanted to do tests just to see. He was a little skeptical that nothing worked, especially objects as simple as pens.

An alarm clock rang, taking him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes, a little surprised despite himself not to have perceived the passage of time. A look at the window showed him the day that filtered around the shutters, and he sighed. At least it was now a decent enough time to get up. Sephiroth noticed that Harry was still sleeping, and frowned at that. Did the boy's magic push him to sleep to repair the damage he had suffered?

He sniffed at this thought. If Dumbledore had hoped to kill him or make him a Squib... he was heavily mistaken. Contrary to what purebloods thought... magic was like a muscle. The more they used it, the more powerful it was. And given the fact that Harry's magic was constantly drained to feed the protection of the house, especially considering that there was no love between him and his family... Harry would be one of the most powerful wizards ever when the blockage on his magic would be released. That, plus the fact that he had done magic more than correctly... he had to be powerful at the base.

Sephiroth shook his head with amusement. He may not have been an expert in the field, unlike Genesis, but he saw Harry just below him in terms of raw power. Now, if Genesis had reincarnated, and he agreed to teach Harry how to be as precise as he was by casting spells... Sephiroth saw him becoming even more dangerous than himself.

He laughed softly. Yes, Harry had a lot of potential. The whole problem would be to help him overcome his education. He pursed his lips thinking about that. It reminded him of Cloud. Oh, he remembered him long before he went insane. The blond had been one of the few cadets to attract his eye. Above all because he had seen the Chocobo’s potential. He had noticed that he was younger than the other candidates... but didn’t say anything about it. Even today, he wondered if it was a good thing. Cloud might not have been the best in all his classes, but when he had a sword in hand... even the long swords of the candidates... he showed an instinctive mastery of the blade. An innate talent, which was found only once in a thousand, and again. The only other candidate who had had so much potential was Zack... and until Angeal took him under his wing, the instructors had seriously considered giving up on the Puppy. He wondered if Zack would have taken Cloud under his wing as well. If that were the case ... he would have pitied the poor Chocobo. Even he was exhausted by the Puppy's endless energy.

Sephiroth got up with a sigh, and stretched himself, instinctively falling back into the old routine of katas he always did after waking up. He frowned, finding it a bit rusty. At the same time, at Hogwarts, he could hardly do that in front of children. The latter might have wanted to imitate him, and he didn’t want these techniques to fall into the wrong hands. Rumors were already raging on him at Hogwarts, he didn’t want to add anything. He would have to find a place to register Harry, if possible abroad. The further he was from school, the better. He was not sure if the Daily Prophet agreed to publish Harry's story in his pages, and even if he did… he was reluctant to spread Harry's life in the newspapers. He himself hated it when it happened to him, and he did not want to do that to anyone. Even to an enemy.

The smell of coffee began to seep into the house, though he must have been the only one to smell it so far away. With a new sigh, he decided to go down. Harry was still sleeping, and he would not be surprised if he continued a moment longer. Better to let him sleep. Hedwig half-opened a glassy eye, and huffed as he opened the door. Sephiroth shook his head with amusement.

“If you want to hunt, I'll open the window when Harry wakes up, alright? In the meantime, I’ll let him sleep.”

Hedwig huffed again, and puffed her feathers, repositioning herself to go back to sleep. Sephiroth went down slowly, heading for the kitchen. Emma looked up as he entered, and blinked in surprise.

“Already awake, Sephiroth? We don’t leave before at least two more hours.”

He shook his head in response.

“I'm a little sleeper, Emma. I know many techniques to maximize the little sleep I had. And because of my education... I cannot sleep more than six hours. Or rarely. Sleeping little was necessary. Even vital in the labs, like being able to work at 100% when you wake up. Failures... were punished. Harshly.”

Emma looked at him in sorrow at this answer. She doubted he would have told the children. Maybe he had pass over some details of what had happened to him to Harry, to help him understand, but she doubted he was talking to Hermione about it. Emma, however, refused to look at him with pity. Because she knew he would not have supported it. He was not proud enough to refuse to do certain things, such as caring for a wounded child, but pity? No, he was just proud enough to refuse that.

She offered him a cup, and Sephiroth thanked her with a smile. He looked good, but she knew it was because of what he had told her. Another person would not have been awake with so little sleep. At least he did not have the stress of his job to make matters worse.

Hermione came down shortly after, rubbing her eyes, and came across the surprising sight of Sephiroth cooking under her mother's orders. She blinked in surprise, wondering why for a second she had felt like she was entering the 4th dimension. It passed as quickly as it came, and Hermione shrugged, attributing it to her still half-asleep state. Sephiroth gave her a smile, which she returned with pleasure. She had rarely seen him smile at Hogwarts, his expression generally remaining impassive or, more rarely, pissed off, as when Harry had been kidnapped.

She was drawn from her thoughts by the appearance of a plate in front of her chair, on which she sat without realizing it. Sephiroth placed a second next to her, probably for Harry, if she relied on the slightly larger portion. She blinked in amazement, however, seeing the portion that could only be attributed to Sephiroth. It was huge! She hadn’t really paid attention to the portions of Sephiroth at Hogwarts, and even the day before she had not watched what he was eating. There was at least the amount of all the other portions in it!

After laying the plates, Sephiroth went to wake Harry, laughing internally at Hermione's expression. He would have thought that she had got over the habit, with Hogwarts. Apparently not. At the same time she usually sat in front of him, Harry and Ron. And even if the latter had made progress, it was enough for one second of inattention on the part of Sephiroth for the boy’s natural manners to returns running. Even Zack didn’t have such bad table manners.

Sephiroth opened the shutters, and shifted to let out Hedwig, who gave him a warning bark before taking off. Leaving the window open, he approached the bed, where Harry had covered his eyes with his valid arm. He could see that Harry was still calming down, and he thought it might take him years to stop panicking when someone woke him up.

Sephiroth gently reassured him, and helped him get ready for the day ahead. The wound in his leg was healing well, faster than it should normally, but he could not really stop the magic from acting, not without feeling like Dumbledore. He just hoped it would not progress too fast. He wanted to see the Dursleys land in jail, the adults at least. The son... he was hoping someone would make him land in a juvenile center. He clearly needed it badly.

Harry was surprised to see that the breakfast was almost in the same vein as the dinner the night before. Slowly, he began to realize that what he had seen that the Dursleys was not the norm. Seeing how the Grangers acted, he had the impression that his so-called family... was overplaying their relationships. Not so much Dudley, who had never known anything else, but his uncle and aunt yes. There was something wrong with them, and he wondered quietly in the back of his mind why they were married.

Nathan joined them in the middle of breakfast, quietly participating in his family's life. He and Emma could see that Sephiroth and Harry were eagerly watching their interactions, and neither of them were disturbed, knowing that they had not really had a normal childhood. Of course, Sephiroth was more discreet than Harry, but Nathan could see the sharp look of the former General. He reminded him of his brother's... he should contact him, to get an idea of when his next leave was. Things were coming up... interesting to say the least. He just hoped they would get along well.

When breakfast was over, Nathan gently chased Harry out of the kitchen when he wanted to help with the dishes, reminding him that he had a broken arm and therefore was not allowed to use it for the moment. Emma guided all of her little group to the car, and started it once all the belts were buckled. Despite the rather early departure, the traffic was already dense in the city center, and, in agreement with Sephiroth, parked near a metro station. The former general wanted to avoid forcing too much on Harry's leg, but recognized that the traffic was far too dense, and the parking spaces too rare in the city center, to risk it with the car. He reassured Emma about the packages, assuring that with Mini, he could cut down on size purchases, and pack everything into Hermione's school bag, which he had convinced him to take. And the Ministry of Idiots would not be aware, as they had no way of detecting the magic of Materias.

oOo

Sephiroth wrinkled his nose in disgust as he entered the Leaky Cauldron. It reminded him vaguely of some places in the Slums, and not the best ones. Rather those in which he sometimes had to recover his subordinates when they were drunk. He could feel Harry sticking to him behind his back, visibly worried about being recognized. Sephiroth had changed the color of his hair before leaving, just to not be recognized in the muggle world, but it also worked in the wizarding world. He had agreed with Emma on the way to pretend to be their cousin, if ever they were asked the question. And given the apparent age of Harry because of the malnutrition he suffered, as well as his own, they could pretend to be a big brother who was accompanying his little brother to buy his school supplies.

Glaring at the wizards looking at them with curiosity, he quickly convinced them to return to their drinks and ignore them. He looked curiously at Hermione who was opening the gateway to Diagon Alley, but quickly cut his magic sight in front of the amount of pure magic that saturated the alley. It was almost as bad as Hogwarts, minus the string of spells that saturated the school. Too bad, he would have loved studying the spells that allowed the passage to work.

He glanced behind him, watching the passage close, before returning his attention to the shopping street. Harry had told him about his misadventure the previous summer, when he had landed totally in the wrong place because of Floo Powder. Sephiroth laughed softly, but he reassured Harry that you could not get it all right the first time. Even he had trouble when he began to learn how to handle a sword. He did not have the right to fail, that's true, but he was not necessarily good at first.

The former general studied the street from the corner of his eyes while advancing, noticing many things very different from his time. For starters, not a single weapon in sight. Cauldrons, wizards' robes, apothecaries, a bookstore, feathers in shambles (with ink next to it of course), a shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium (probably where Hagrid bought Hedwig), and so on. Sephiroth was almost certain it was after that Dumbledore had put all the spells on the owl when he arrived at Hogwarts.

Finally, they arrived in front of a large, snow-white building, which overlooked the shops around. Standing next to the glittering bronze portal, dressed in a scarlet uniform, stood a Goblin. The Goblin was about a head shorter than Harry, he had a dark complexion, an intelligent face, a pointed beard, and long, slender fingers and feet. When they entered the building, the goblin bowed as they passed. They found themselves in front of another door, in silver this time, on which were engraved these words:

_ Enter, stranger, but take heed _

_ Of what awaits the sin of greed, _

_ For those who take, but do not earn, _

_ Must pay most dearly in their turn, _

_ So if you seek beneath our floors _

_ A treasure that was never yours, _

_ Thief, you have been warned, beware _

_ Of finding more than treasure there _ .

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at the poem, but did not think about it. Like the Grangers and Harry, he politely bowed to the Goblins guarding the doors, making them blink. Two other goblins bowed in front of them and they entered a vast marble hall. Behind a long counter, about a hundred goblins sat on high stools, writing in registers, weighing coins on copper scales, examining gems with a magnifying glass.

There were so many doors in the hall that it was useless to try to count them. Strangely, the bank was empty. Sephiroth would have thought there were customers any day of the week, but they had to hit the jackpot, and accidentally choose a day and a time when no wizard was going to withdraw money. On the one hand, it suited him well. He had a bad feeling about Harry's finances, and his instinct had never deceived him. He preferred not to cause a public scene.

Choosing a Goblin at random, he walked in that direction confidently, Harry following him closely. He waited politely and calmly for the Goblin to notice him, Emma having assured him that they were in no hurry. Nathan would probably be watching television in the meantime, so no risk he's bored. Finally, their interlocutor looked up, a little surprised at not having been harshly questioned. A welcome change.

“What would you like?” He asked gruffly, but polite.

Sephiroth gently pushed Harry in front, who hesitated before shyly speaking.

“I would like to withdraw money from my vault, please.”

“You have a key?” The Goblin asked, frowning.

The kid's head reminded him of someone. Too young to be him, though. Harry shook his head.

"No," he admitted softly. “It was Mrs. Weasley who kept it for me.”

The Goblin rolled his eyes.

“In this case, it will be necessary to remake one, young man. Your name?”

“Harry James Potter,” the boy said softly, making the Goblin twitch.

“Mr Potter? Why have you never responded to letters from Gringotts?” The Goblin asked sternly, holding back a surprised gesture at the boy's frightened reaction.

“Mails?” Harry asked timidly. “I have never received anything from Gringotts.”

The Goblin's frown deepened.

“However, letters have been sent to your magical guardian, Mr Potter. He assured us that he passed them on to you.”

Sephiroth snorted, catching the attention of the Goblin, who shivered at the teal green eyes that stared at him.

“It does not surprise me. There were several spells on Harry meant to hide him from unapproved owls. Only the Ministry, Hogwarts and an owl called Errol could bring him letters.”

Harry looked at him in amazement. That explained why he had never received a gift from his "admirers", but why was Errol on this list? Why would anyone let Errol bring him letters, but no other owls? He was drawn from his thoughts by Sephiroth, who spoke again, shocking him:

“I guess his magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore?”

Faced with the nonverbal confirmation of the Goblin, Sephiroth developed:

“I'm pretty sure he's the one who has placed many surveillance spells on Harry, not just those meant to hide him from unauthorized owls. There was also a spell designed to hide him from his family's house elves. However, we did not come for that. Is it possible to quickly make a new key?”

The Goblin blinked, barely shocked by his interlocutor's revelations. That explained why the Potter heir had never responded to the bank's summons. He shook himself mentally to answer him, his instinct whispering that his interlocutor was not to be angered.

“It will be 10 Sickles, but I can do it immediately.”

“Make it, please,” Harry asked softly. “I would also like to know if it is possible to transfer money to an electronic account of a muggle bank. I do not think it's discreet if the Grangers deposit a large amount of money on their account.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that,” Emma objected.

Harry looked at her, his eyes far too serious for his age.

“I want to, it's not fair that you paid the hospital expenses for me because I couldn’t withdraw money. And then you host us with Sephiroth. I don’t want to be a dead weight,” he said softly, but with conviction.

The ex-general in question shook his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. So much for their plan to distract Harry so he forgets that. He was really going to have to work on the boy's lack of self-esteem. He was distracted by the Goblin's response.

“Of course it's possible, Mr Potter. You should know it already. There is already a monthly transfer of one hundred galleons to the Barclays Bank account owned by the Dursleys, converted into British Pounds, for your food, care, and education.”

Sephiroth stiffened, just like Harry. The Dursleys... were paid to take care of Harry? Seriously? With the way they had treated him? How much were they paid for? And above all... were they paid to mistreat him? The warrior's gaze landed on a trembling Harry, tears in his eyes. His own eyes returned to the Goblin, who swallowed as he saw the cold, hard eyes that stared at him.

“I suppose Albus Dumbledore is the one who authorized this?” He asked coldly, before continuing in front of the clerk's nod. “In your opinion, did the Dursleys took care of him, except to mistreat him?”

The Goblin could only shake his head in front of Sephiroth's cold fury. The boy was actually much too small and skinny for his age, not to mention the black eye as obvious as his arm in a sling. No, something was wrong with the child. Sephiroth spoke again, making him swallow.

“I think it would be a good thing for me to make an appointment with Harry's account manager. Something tells me that there are other particularly dubious things with them. I also want to know if you can tell me if there have been other withdrawals or transfers from the Potter family coffers since he was placed with these  _ Animals _ .”

Normally, the Goblin would have taken offense at the tone of Sephiroth voice. However... two things prevented it. First... his instinct was screaming that the person in front of him was infinitely more dangerous than a dragon. The dragons, Gringotts had trained them for centuries. They knew how to handle them. This individual... was an enigma. Secondly, he shared his anger at the state of the Potter fortune's heir. And no child deserved to be treated as badly as this one. For the Goblins, the children were precious. Those who mistreated them were severely punished.

For this reason, he confirmed that he was capable of it, and drew a thick book from under his wicket. The thick register was magically linked to the Master Ledger, which contained absolutely all the information about all the bank accounts. The Potter family was entitled to at least three pages by itself, it was one of the oldest customers of the bank. Frowning, he studied the book.

“What the…”

“A problem?” Sephiroth asked, barely surprised.

“It seems that access to Mr Potter's accounts is restricted,” grumbled the Goblin, more and more edgy. “It's strange... it should not be the case... no order has been given by our superiors... and... it's magic Goblin... What does that mean…”

As he spoke, he ran his hand over the book, trying to access the information it contained. Sephiroth was on his guard, however, and was studying his surroundings carefully. Most clerks now stared at them, their attention drawn to the scene in the bank entrance, even though they had not raised their voices. One of them in particular caught Sephiroth's attention. The former general could see that there was something different in his attitude, and that he studied them with acute attention. Too acute indeed. His attitude was enough to trigger alarms in his mind, and he subtly changed his posture, ready to react.

The Goblin swore copiously, drawing his attention again. The Goblin held his book at arm's length, his expression of pure fury.

“But what does that mean! _ No one _ , except the upper echelons, has the right to restrict access to the clerk's registers! And not without a good reason! The customer  _ must _ be able to ask at any time to have information about his account! But I am  _ certain _ that no order has been issued on this subject!”

“Ask him, then,” said Sephiroth, pointing to the Goblin that had caught his attention.

All eyes were on him, and even Emma could see he was surprised.

“Me?” Exclaimed the Goblin, on the defensive. “How could I know something about this,  _ Wizard _ ?”

The way he had pronounced the word "wizard" sounded clearly scornful, like the way the Purebloods spoke of the Muggleborns, but Sephiroth ignored him. He didn't care for the Goblin’s opinion, just as he didn’t care about his first diaper. However... he clearly saw that something was wrong with this Goblin.

“Tell me then,” said Sephiroth calmly. “But you know something,” he added, tilting his head to the side, staring at him like a hawk.

The Goblin snorted with contempt, but even Emma could see that his reaction sounded wrong.

“Do you really think I know something?” He asked scornfully.

Sephiroth offered him his famous shark smile, all his teeth and malice, and the Goblin to which they had first addressed shuddered. He discreetly pressed a button under his counter, alerting the guards that there was a problem in the bank lobby. He just hoped not to condemn them to death. The alert would also go up the ladder of the bank, alerting Goblins higher placed. Normally, there was no meeting today. Nobody should be mad at him for interrupting an important meeting.

“My education taught me to read people who had something to blame themselves with. It doesn’t matter if you are human, Goblin, or whatever. Some signs do not deceive. And you, you have something to blame yourself for. Is it possible that you have something to do with the blocking on Harry's accounts? The question is why in this case…”

Sephiroth didn’t have the opportunity to continue his sentence, the expression of the Goblin having distorted itself into something hideous... just before he jumped on his counter, then on Sephiroth, plunging right in the direction of his heart, a dagger held in his outstretched hand. The ex-general wanted to roll his eyes in front of so much stupidity. The Goblin didn’t even know who he was, and he was attacking without any real provocation? The silverette could have easily killed him, but he decided not to do so. It was up to his leaders to punish him.

The warrior caught the Goblin with disconcerting ease for his spectators, grabbing him by the hand holding the dagger. A shocked silence fell on the bank, the tellers just like the guards silent, surprised by the reaction time of Sephiroth. The latter hadn’t lost his disturbing smile, and it even grew as his appearance changed.

The color seemed to drain from his hair, quickly imitated by the faces of the spectators around them, with the exception of Emma and Hermione, who were already aware. His grinning smile terrified the Goblin he was holding, especially as his pupils changed shape to become vertical again.

“TH…  _ THE NIGHTMARE! _ ” Stammered his victim, shitting himself under the effect of terror.

Emma was surprised to see the terror spreading so fast around them. All Goblins seemed to have either imitated Sephiroth's victim, or to be on the verge of doing so. Obviously, she had underestimated the terrifying power of Sephiroth. His legend continued to inspire terror just at his sight, even millennia later. Sephiroth, on the other hand, was perfectly calm, and even amused. He hated his bad reputation, but he was not stupid enough not to exploit when he needed it.

Calmly, softly, he addressed the Goblins.

“In your place, I wouldn’t move,” he said, making the guards freeze. “If even one of you raises his weapon on the people who are with me, I can assure you that there will be no survivor on your side.”

“You seem sure of that fact, Demon of Wutai,” said a voice on the side, drawing the attention of everyone.

Sephiroth turned his eyes in that direction, apparently ignoring the Goblins around him. However... if someone had tried to take advantage of the opportunity he seemed to offer them... they would have been wrong. Sephiroth had not lowered his guard, and above all, he was holding the Goblin with his right hand. Anyone who knew his legend also knew he was wielding his sword with his left hand. And his position was that he could summon Masamune with ease, without risk of touching anyone... anyway, not Harry, Hermione and Emma. The guards were another story, but they couldn’t say they had not been warned.

His gaze fell on a Goblin different from the others. Larger already, almost as tall as Harry, his long steel gray hair was tied in a catogan on his neck, and he wore an armor that, despite the ornate side, was clearly functional and well maintained. His watchful eye could see the runes engraved on the neck and around the jewels of the chest. Probably runes of protection. He thought that it could certainly parry several of the Goblin war axes that accompanied him (probably his guards). The Goblin himself wore a war axe, and Sephiroth's sharp eye remarked that, like his armor, it was not there  _ only _ for decoration. The former general could see that, like himself, he was moving with a predatory grace. His look showed so clearly that whoever he was, he was a warrior.

A gesture from the Goblin's hand pushed the guards back, who seemed relieved to get away from him. Sephiroth did not relax though. He didn’t feel any tricks from this Goblin, but he preferred to remain cautious. Calmly, he answered the Goblin's remark, ignoring his catch, which was shaking like a leaf.

“There is a difference between being arrogant for no reason, and being sure of one's abilities. If you know my legend... you should know that you did not bring enough guards to defeat me. Far from it. Also, my name is Sephiroth.”

The Goblin who had spoken nodded calmly.

“My name is Ragnok. I suspect that I have not brought enough warriors to defeat you, if the old legends are even a minimum accurate. Even with bringing all the warriors here at Gringotts, our chances of defeating you would be meager at best.”

“At best,” Sephiroth confirmed calmly. “So, if you didn’t come to confront me, why did you come down here, Goblin King?”

Ragnok barely blinked at his title. The Nightmare had been known for his intelligence, despite his madness. However... how did he knew his position? The legends of the Goblins were more detailed than those of the Wizards, who had forgotten many details over time. The Goblins, after their escape from the Sacred Land, had recorded their legends in stone. These had therefore remained much closer to the original than those of humans, which had been deformed or lost over time.

Hermione had let out a gasp of surprise. The Goblin’s King? But why did he come down? Slowly, Ragnok spoke, weighing his words to avoid triggering a bloodbath. Sephiroth did not look aggressive, and he wondered if he wasn’t like legends were describing him, before he descended into madness. But even before that, his dangerous reputation was well established.

“I was alerted to a problem in the bank. In addition, a guard told me what triggered all this, and I must admit also want answers. However... will you allow me to ask you how do you know about me?”

Sephiroth looked at him for a long time, thinking about whether to answer the question. Finally, he decided that it was not important to hide things. He had not disclosed Ragnok's real position, and knew full well that Ragnok was also aware of it.

“I suppose you are aware that the Lifestream is made up of the souls of the dead, right?” Sephiroth asked, before continuing in at Ragnok's nod. “More than 10,000 years ago, long before Minerva submerged the Sacred Land and everything around it, I was brought back to life, and she gave me a second chance. What happened next is a private matter, but after a number of events, I returned there, and, at my request, I was sealed in a crystal composed of Mako.”

Ragnok nodded.

“I see. I guess some Goblin souls have had to be part of his composition in the last two centuries. Enough about that now. Teller Shatterbeak, I would also like to know why the Potter family's accounts have been sealed  _ without _ my consent or knowledge.”

The Goblin in question grew even paler, and swallowed, but remained silent. He was aware that his life was fucked from the moment he had stupidly attacked The Nightmare. Refusing to answer Ragnok was barely below in terms of stupidity, but lost for lost... The Goblin King clicked his tongue at the prolonged silence.

“Guards, take him. Be sure to tell the interrogator that I want  _ honest  _ answers. If that suits you as well,” he added to the small group.

Not really knowing what he was talking about, Harry just shook his head shyly to nod. Sephiroth was the only one who had an idea of what was waiting for the Goblin, but he would not say anything in front of the kids. In any case, not in the immediate future. Maybe later, when they were adults. And even. He dropped his victim to the ground, where she was picked up by the guards, and led away by a secondary door. At least Shatterbeak had enough pride not to beg in front of humans.

Ragnok turned his attention back to Sephiroth and Harry. He could clearly see that the Potter heir didn’t understand anything that was happening, and had moved closer to Sephiroth, clinging to his coat with his good hand. Frowning, he studied the child with more attention. In spite of his 12 years, almost thirteen, the child was puny and lean, abnormally so. No, clearly, the Dursleys had not made use of the money received for him. His hard look fell on Gnarlfang, who swallowed.

“Teller Gnarlfang... I’m counting on you to do the maximum in order to discover the whereabouts of the money transferred to the Dursleys. If it turns out they didn’t use it for Mr Potter, as its appearance seems to suggest... make sure to recover everything. To the very last knut. I don’t care if they end up on the street.”

Gnarlfang nodded, he wasn’t going to refuse that. On the contrary, he was impatient to be able to rectify the wrongs done to one of their oldest clients. Ragnok then turned to Sephiroth.

“I understand you want to get an appointment with the Potter account manager, right? Alas, even we cannot grant this request. As long as a Heir is a minor, this kind of appointment can only be obtained by the Guardian, Magical or not, of this one.”

Sephiroth pursed his lips as he heard that.

“In this case, I will have to get custody of Harry. Which brings me to the other reason why I came here. I need enough convincing papers for the authorities to think that I really exist. I have more problems than the authorities.”

“Albus Dumbledore,” Ragnok confirmed. “He is a threat to Mr. Potter... but also for the future of the wizarding world.”

“In which way?” Sephiroth asked, preoccupied.

“The quality of education in the wizarding world continues to decline. The Ministry only approves of an education that the Purebloods, magically weaker than the average Muggleborn, can learn. And the more generations pass…”

“The weaker the Purebloods get,” continued Sephiroth. “And that's without counting the history. They only learn about so-called  _ "Goblin rebellions _ ". This ghost only repeats the same things, never deviating from his program. If he continues like this... the wizards will repeat the mistakes of the past... and provoke a new war with you. Especially considering that Voldemort is still in the nature.”

Ragnok pursed his lips as he heard that.

“He's still alive?”

The sentence was phrased more as a statement than a question, but Sephiroth answered anyway.

“In the form of a wraith, but yes. Which is one of the reasons why I think to enroll Harry in another school. Hogwarts... do not inspire me trust. As long as Albus Dumbledore is at his head... Harry is in danger there to me. Especially since I have the impression that he wants to make him a martyr. And that's not something I would allow,” Sephiroth said firmly. “Not while I'm alive.”

Ragnok nodded.

“I understand. Gringotts will do its best to satisfy your request, isn’t it?” The King asked, raising an eyebrow at Gnarlfang.

The latter nodded almost frantically, vaguely reminding Harry of Dobby, recognizing the order for what it was. Looking at Sephiroth, he respectfully addressed him.  _ Nobody _ wanted to make The Nightmare angry.

“I will need for you to tell me the information you want to make public, such as your age, place of birth, and all.”

“Unfortunately, I have only an idea of the age, for the rest, I don’t really have an idea,” answered Sephiroth, not without humor. “I doubt that Midgar or Nibelheim exists at this time. Not to mention my accent.”

Indeed, for a reason that escaped Sephiroth, he had a striking American accent. He supposed it was because of the Lifestream, and the soul that transmitted English was of American origin. Gnarlfang nodded.

“Do you want me to create an identity from scratch? I want to warn you, the price will be higher.”

Shyly, Harry raised his voice.

“I don’t mind paying for Sephiroth, but if you could give me a new key before please? And the transfer to the Grangers account?”

Gnarlfang nodded.

“Of course. Do you want the old one to be destroyed?”

Sephiroth spoke at that moment.

“Not yet, if you don’t mind. I think the revelations made when the seal on his family's accounts will be lifted will determine whether it will be destroyed or not.”

Gnarlfang looked at him in puzzlement, as did Harry, but seeing that the boy seemed to be complying with his eldest decision, decided to bow. Taking a stone bowl and a knife, both covered with runes, from under his desk, he motioned to the child to approach.

“All you need is a slight cut on the index finger and seven drops of blood in the cup to generate a new key, Mr Potter. Don’t worry,” he added at Sephiroth's look, “the runes on the knife will instantly heal the wound as soon as the key is created.”

Harry stepped forward at Sephiroth's nod, and followed the Goblin's instructions. Faithfully to the Goblin words, the wound healed just as a scarlet smoke rose from the stone cup. When it dissipated, a golden key lay in the hollow, and Gnarlfang handed it to Harry.

“Don’t lose it Mr. Potter, or next time, it will be 5 Galleons to make you one again. As for you, Mr. Sephiroth... you have no information to give me about your identity, other than your first name?”

Sephiroth let out a sigh.

“I don’t even know who my father is, at least with certainty. For my name... Sephiroth Valentine. For my age... let's say 29 years old. It is in any case the age that I seem to have. Also, a military background, with a rank of general if it’s possible. I can’t hide my military training. A mention of a burnout would be perfect too. For the rest... as long as this identity is foolproof... it doesn’t matter to me.”

The Goblin nodded, noting the information in a corner of his mind, just like the city of birth he had mentioned. He could always change if it was necessary. Emma stepped forward with a sigh, taking out a bank statement from her bag and telling Gnarlfang about the approximate amount. The Goblin assured him that the transfer would be made during the day, and asked if Harry wanted to withdraw money. The boy looked at Emma, not knowing how to answer. He knew that Emma had insisted on buying him a full wardrobe, but he had no idea how much it would cost.

Emma absently tapped the desk with her fingers, thinking.

“I think 300 Pounds should do,” she finally said, looking at Sephiroth and Harry. “If you want to buy everything new, you can go up to about 400.”

Sephiroth briefly pondered the question, then shook his head.

“I don’t think that we will buy new, at least not in the immediate future. But you must also count my own needs,” he admitted. “I am not bothered by the idea of buying used clothes. As long as they fit me and are of good quality... I don’t care whether they are new or not. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Emma nodded at that, and turned to Gnarlfang.

“So 400 £. Is it possible please?”

The Goblin nodded, scribbling a note that he dropped in the basket on his desk, where it magically vanished a second later. Less than five minutes later, a younger Goblin came out of a side door, heading toward them. Harry was surprised to recognize the Goblin who had brought him to his vault during his first visit to the bank. Griphook, if he remembered well. The Goblin paused when he saw Sephiroth, visibly paling. However, seeing that Ragnok stood relatively close to the silver haired man, and seemed perfectly calm, he gathered his courage and went on his way. He courageously handed the money to Emma, who thanked him politely.

Goblins didn’t show this, but many preferred to work with the Muggleborn and their Muggle parents. The latter generally treated the Goblins much more politely than the Purebloods, who believed themselves superior to all. Griphook was more astonished to see Harry Potter remember him, and even ask him how he was going, when it was clear that the boy had been beaten recently. He glanced nervously at Sephiroth when the boy asked if he could take them to his vault on their next visit, but agreed. The boy had been polite and respectful during his visits, it would have been rude to refuse such a simple request.

After exchanging some courtesies with Ragnok, the group left the bank, and the Goblins present let out a sigh of relief when the door closed. The guards as the tellers called their relief to take over and all, by mutual agreement, decided to get changed and then empty a mug of beer to recover from their emotions. The only ones who didn’t do it where Gnarlfang and Ragnok (although the former still went to change his clothes). Both had too much to do. The first had money to claim, and the second people to rule. As well as a report to make.

_ To be continued… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil cackles*  
> Yes, Sephiroth is angry and now the goblin king too.  
> Next chapter, shopping and cuteness overload^^


	7. A taste of freedom

Harry didn’t know what to think anymore. He had always thought that Dumbledore was the Leader of the Light, like most wizards. What he had just learned went against everything that he thought he knew about him. And he wanted his death? Harry could hardly believe it. Why did he do that? What did he get out of it?

A hand rested gently on his shoulder, making him jump. He calmed quickly however, realizing that it was not that of his uncle or aunt. Too fine to be that of his uncle, but too wide to be that of his aunt either. Raising his head, he met the green eyes of Sephiroth, who was watching him closely. The silverette had resumed his disguise, his long black hair reaching his shoulder blades and his eyes taking on a more human form. He even subtly changed the shape of his face to look like him, and reinforces his " _ big brother _ " cover. Harry realized it did not bother him to pretend that Sephiroth was his big brother. The latter had protected him and had taken care of him since the moment they met. And, if he trusted what he had seen among the Weasleys... it was the role of the big brothers. Anyway, he hoped that Sephiroth would not make him the same kind of shots as the twins. In any case, it did not seem to be his style.

“Don’t worry, Harry” said Sephiroth, who seemed almost to have read his thoughts. “As long as things do not change, or Minerva gives me the order, I will not let you go back to Hogwarts if I can avoid it.”

Harry nodded, partly relieved. It did not diminish the feeling of betrayal. He had thought that Dumbledore was someone reliable. Even if he had refused to tell him why Voldemort was after him.

“Sephiroth?” Harry asked timidly.

“Yes Harry?”

“If you ever... you know, find why Riddle's after me... you'd tell me, right?” Harry asked, hesitating slightly using the familiarity.

After all, it's hard to pretend that someone is your brother if you seemed to barely knew the person. Harry understood that he would have to get used to the charade in public. Sephiroth nodded in response.

“Of course, Harry. I don’t really see why I would hide it from you, even though Dumbledore seems to want to do so. You have the right to know, especially knowing that he has murdered your parents, and has already tried three times to kill you too.”

Harry felt relieved when he heard that. Until now, Sephiroth had never broken his word. He had always done what he promised, as soon as he could. Even though he had arrived late with the Dursleys... it wasn’t his fault. He had arrived as soon as he was able to. Slowly, hesitantly, Harry timidly grabbed Sephiroth's hand. The latter didn’t wear his leather gloves, unlike Hogwarts, and had added a t-shirt borrowed from Nathan under his leather coat. Emma had convinced him to do so, explaining that if he walked around without this under his coat, it wasn’t said that he would have no problems. The boy could feel the calluses on his protector's hand, and he supposed they were probably more pronounced on his left hand.

For a few seconds, there was no reaction from Sephiroth, and just as Harry, embarrassed, was going to withdraw his hand, thinking he had made a mistake, the powerful hand gently closed on his. Looking up, the boy met Sephiroth's eyes, who smiled gently at him, trying to reassure him.

The silver-haired warrior didn’t expect Harry to take his hand, which explained his slower reaction time than usual. He had nothing against the boy taking his hand, however, seeing that he was seriously shaken by the revelations that had been made about Dumbledore and his so-called "family". Sephiroth could bless his control over himself, or there would have been a bloodbath. Dudley might have survived that, especially because he wasn’t present. Sephiroth let out a mental sigh. No, unless Minerva orders him, he would not let Harry go back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore obviously knew too much. Way too much. Did he have anything to do with the death of Harry's parents? Even indirectly?

Sephiroth was distracted from his thoughts by Emma, who asked if he wanted to go shopping for Harry or himself first.

"Harry," Sephiroth said firmly. “I want to be able to  _ burn _ those rags at the first opportunity.”

Emma held back a giggle as she heard that.

“ _ Genesis _ was supposed to be the pyromaniac,” she teased him gently. “Not you.”

Sephiroth could not help laughing.

“Although I must admit that I favored ice as an element, I didn’t manage that badly with fire. Moreover, we mustn’t forget that some monsters had elemental weaknesses. Some took almost no damage with fire, or ice, or lightning. Some others resisted magic, and were only really vulnerable to physical attacks. The swords worked wonders on them.”

They paused to get out, Hermione reopening the passage for them, and Emma continued once they were in the street.

“What makes me wonder, though, is why they armed you with swords in SOLDIER? Guns wouldn’t have been better? Especially since the technology existed, according to what you told me.”

Sephiroth snorted.

“The public... admired and feared us at the same time. I caught conversations saying that people were more comfortable knowing about us wielding short-range weapon than a firearm. What they didn’t know, or maybe they didn’t think about it, was that with our enhancements… by the time an enemy pulled the trigger... we could easily close the distance that separated us. In addition... bullets runs out, Emma. I would have to do a drawing for you to have a point of comparison, but to kill a Behemoth, for example, you would need hundreds of bullets... or a rocket launcher, which is pretty expensive.”

“And with a sword?” Emma asked, hardly daring to imagine the size of this monster.

“If you could reach his head... two or three strokes at most for the 1st Classes. Once you had broken his horns... the brain was an easy target, the skull being less solid than the horns.”

She blinked in surprise.

“Yet, the skull is supposed to be one of the strongest bones in the body, you're telling me that their horns were  _ stronger _ ?”

Sephiroth nodded.

“Much stronger. To tell you, for a single horn, it took at least between three and four hits to break it. And let's not talk about 2nd or 3rd Classes. Facing a Behemoth... their chances of winning were much meager. For this reason, when there was a Behemoth attack, only the 1st Classes were deployed, and rarely alone.”

Emma nodded slowly.

“One or more to distract him while one attacked him?”

“Exactly. Even this strategy wasn’t without risks,” Sephiroth admitted. “Sometimes the SOLDIERS owed their lives only to the Materias they had on them, and to Mako with Jenova cells added. The two combined allowed for accelerated healing... up to a point,” he added. “Many put a point of honor to have a Revive Materia.”

“Why ?” Emma asked, waiting for the fire to turn green for pedestrians.

“Revive has a total of two spells on it, Life and Life 2. As long as a body is intact, or at least almost whole, it can bring the person back to life. Most hated to level it to Master level if they didn’t have Platinum Bangles or Rune Armlets, which made it easier to level.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, curious.

She and Harry had remained largely silent, listening to the adults talking. Hermione found Sephiroth's stories fascinating most of the time, though sometimes sad.

“In general, to gain experience with a Materia... you have to use it,” explained Sephiroth. “And yes, for Revive, it means to die, or using it on a dead ally.”

“Is it really the only solution?” Emma asked, uncomfortable.

“The most effective, anyway,” Sephiroth replied. “Materia still earns experience when worn, but it's less efficient than using them. I guess you have no doubt that all or nearly all of Genesis’ Fire Materias were at Master level,” Sephiroth chuckled.

Emma snorted with irony as they reached their first destination, Harrods.

“The opposite would have surprised me more. Be careful, the mall is always pack on Saturday. But this is where we will have the most choice.”

Sephiroth nodded, fighting the urge to pull out his wing to protect Harry. Fortunately, most people avoided jostling him when they saw his cast. The others apologized hastily when they saw his black glare. The poor boy clung to Sephiroth, who was doing his best to protect him.

She led their group towards the elevators, and Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at the mirrors surrounded by golding on the walls. Even Shinra had favored functionalism rather than appearance, at least for the SOLDIERS. He shrugged. Different times, different criteria. Emma selected the fourth floor, and the elevator started. On leaving, they fell on the toy department, and Harry looked around in wonder. He had never seen so many toys around him. He recognized some, that Vernon and Petunia had offered to Dudley, but there were so many different kinds!

He suddenly paused when he saw the plushies, attracting Sephiroth's attention. Harry considered himself a bit too old for plushies, but one of them in particular had caught his attention. It was a big, silver-colored cat whose eyes were very similar to Sephiroth's. The latter realized that Harry was staring at the plushy, and even Hermione seemed fascinated by it. No, not by it, he realized then, but by the dog next to it. Jet black with a white spot on it’s right shoulder, it had blue eyes, like the sky. Sephiroth exchanged a look with Emma, who had also stopped, and she nodded, understanding his intentions without him having to speak. Gently, she caught her daughter's attention, asking if everything was okay.

“There is one missing…” she murmured in a distant voice, like a trance.

“There is one missing?” Emma repeated, surprised, looking at Sephiroth, who looked just as perplexed. “What do you mean?”

As if startled out of her trance, Hermione jumped and looked at her mother with incomprehension.

“I don’t know,” she replied in a frustrated tone. “I just know... there is one missing, but I don’t know what or which!”

She seemed close to tears, and Emma comforted her as best she could. Hermione had always hated not understanding anything, or not knowing, and every time she was confronted with the limits of her knowledge, frustration made her cry. Seeing her like that, Harry hesitantly let go of Sephiroth's hand, and went to wrap his good arm around Hermione's shoulders.

Sephiroth looked at them with a mixture of amusement and affection. Both were true friends. They reminded him, a little of Genesis and Angeal. They had always been close, and had watched over each other until the injury of the first, and his slow descent into madness. Sephiroth realized that it was something that he would have needed at their age. Zack had tried to fulfill that role, but his education had led him to be extremely suspicious of anything unknown to him... and he had need to die and be brought back to life in another world to come to terms with that kind of things.

He sighed softly. At least he understood the lesson. If  _ she _ and his friends came back to life... he had every intention of thanking them. They had deserved it for supporting him. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and grabbed the plushies, handing them to the children, who looked at him in surprise. Hermione accepted the dog with less hesitation than Harry, who looked at Sephiroth, a little embarrassed.

“I'm a bit old to play with plushies,” Harry protested softly, his cheeks red.

“I don’t think there is an age to keep plushies,” Sephiroth answered softly, shaking his head gently, taking a plushy to examine it more closely.

It was a cat too, but smaller than the other two. It had the appearance of a kitten, the fluffy fur of a very light brown, almost golden, and blue-gray eyes. It looked so small and vulnerable compared to the other plushies on the shelf that Sephiroth wondered how he had landed there. He gazed at it for a long time, lost in thought. He wondered why it made him think of  _ her _ , except for the sense of vulnerability it was giving off.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Harry, who had come to cling to him, trembling. Sephiroth looked up, frowning, and found himself confronted by a bunch of teenagers just barely older than Harry and Hermione, who were making fun of the poor boy. He gently give him the plushy he had taken, and he walked towards the teenagers, threatening.

“You have a problem with my little brother?” He asked softly, but on a warning tone.

The smart ones froze in front of his tone, recognizing the threat for what it was, but the others continued to laugh.

“What is he, a queer, to have fun with a plushy at his age?” Sneered the one who seemed to be the leader.

“A child who was abused by our uncle and aunt after the  _ murder _ of our parents,” Sephiroth said quietly, discreetly letting out his aura, “and that I just  _ only _ came to rescue. You have a problem with beaten children,  _ brat _ ?”

The leader froze, finally realizing that he had attacked stronger than him.

For a second or two, it had been like crossing the eyes of a tiger. An implacable, untamed and ferocious look. Stammering some excuses without conviction, he fled, quickly followed by the rest of his gang. The warrior shook his head, disgusted. It was moments like this that made him think that humanity was worthless. Yet... his gaze fell back on the plushies that Harry still held. And especially on the kitten. And  _ she _ came back to his mind. The way she had trusted them... she had loved them... she had never asked for anything in return. Just, maybe, that they returned her feelings. Genesis and Angeal had little difficulty with that... more for the idea of... " _ sharing _ " her between them all.

Sephiroth had never had the opportunity to incorporate forbiddens and other taboos specific to a society, or very little. Monogamy was something he knew in principle, but did not integrate. The idea of having multiple relationships hadn’t shocked him or put him off, unlike his two friends. And even they had ended up getting used to it. What they wanted above all else was that  _ she _ be happy. And if it was with them three... well, they weren’t going to refuse her. Not after all she went through. Those who insulted her or mistook her for a prostitute generally paid a high price for their behavior.

Gently, he took the kitten plushie in his hands, turning it thoughtfully. No, just for her memory, he would try to not kill if he could avoid it. Destroy reputations, though... it was much more satisfying and effective. And if they decided to attack him... he was largely able to defend himself. If they attacked those who were dear to him on the other hand... he would not answer for anything.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Emma, who had gone to get a basket while he was distracted. He saw that Harry had already put his plushie in, while Hermione continued to hold hers in her arms, as if it might fly away. Harry had also moved closer to him, and clung to his coat again. Shaking himself mentally, Sephiroth hesitated, then dropped the stuffed toy with the others. He was reluctant to spend money on such frivolous things for himself, but something told him that there was a reason the plushie had caught his attention. At least he consoled himself by saying that it was cheaper than the others.

He gently took Harry's hand, with the latter pressing himself against him with some relief. They left in the direction of clothing for children/teenagers. The priority here was the underwear for both males. As Sephiroth had said, buy second hand for the rest, especially for Harry, who might be subject to a growth spurt. Shoes would not be too much either, he thought as he studied Harry's tired sneakers. The sole was so worn that it was practically smooth. In places, we even saw holes. That was one of the things they would change immediately. The clothes would go at least once in the washer, Emma had explained to him, to wash everything that could have been deposited on it and the products whose manufacturers were soaking them to protect them from the insects among others.

Sephiroth could only bow to this logic, which did not mean he would not burn the rags Harry wore at the first opportunity. Arrived in the underwear section of Harry's age group, a brief conference between him and Emma saw the latter take Hermione to select sneakers for Harry. The mother of the family suspected that Harry would be very embarrassed to find himself choosing undies (or other) in the presence of women.

Sephiroth himself was a bit lost in the choice available. Undies, briefs, boxers... there was a little something for everyone. Some had a cartoon character pattern on it, which was sometimes unknown to him. He still encouraged Harry to take them if he liked them. The latter was a little overwhelmed by the experience. For the first time, he was encouraged to choose something, and he could give in to his heart’s desire. If it was up to him, Harry would have taken almost nothing. Maybe a pack of three, and that's it. Sephiroth insisted he take more than that, at least a dozen or fifteen. After having hesitated for a long time between the different types, he finally decided on boxers briefs. Dudley had never worn anything but undies, and if the boy was not ready for the relative "freedom" the boxer shorts offered, he wanted to wear something other than his cousin's.

Sephiroth kindly reminded him that whatever he chose was  _ his _ decision, and that of no one else. Sephiroth would not impose anything on him. The socks were easier, and Harry was content with simple white sports socks. These would not be damaged like the others, he promised to himself.

Emma returned a few moments later, some boxes in her arms and Hermione's. Not knowing exactly what Harry would like, they had chosen different types of sneakers in Harry's approximate size, as well as one size above. The ex-general insisted that Harry only take shoes that he would immediately feel comfortable with.

Finally, he chose black and silver sneakers and a pair of white sneakers. He refused to take a third, saying he did not need it. Emma and Sephiroth didn’t insist. Already, convincing him to take two pairs was a victory in itself. Sephiroth agreed to go see for his own underwear, mostly because he didn’t want to come back and strain Harry even harder.

After another elevator ride, they found themselves in the basement. And again, the choice was rather broad. Sephiroth, however, knew exactly what he wanted. He selected a few choices of particularly colorful underwear, quite amused by Emma's taken aback expression. It wasn’t because he favored black for his clothes that he didn’t wear colors  _ at all _ . And he had always loved wearing colored underwear just for fun.

Once the choice was done (with bright red socks for Sephiroth), they went to the checkout. The final amount made the silverette give a slight grimace, especially because of the price of the plushies. The big ones cost about £30 each. The kitten, only half. The shoes had not been given, and yet Emma and Hermione had taken care to choose the cheapest possible. Sephiroth sighed. At least, Harry  _ finally _ had new stuff. It was more than time he did.

On leaving, they sought a quiet little street, so Sephiroth could use Mini on shopping bags. They quickly found such a street, and as soon as he could, the silverette took out his Transform Materia and fitted it on one of his armlets, the Dragon Armlet to be precise. He quickly equipped it in one of the orifices, chuckling softly before the shocked expression of his companions. Emma had not been paying attention the day before when he had taken out Scan of the armlet, but there she had been able to see the crystal sphere of a size slightly smaller than that of a tennis ball being almost literally  _ absorbed _ by the hole in the armlet, miniaturizing to about the size of an average marble that kids used to collected. The green glow surrounded the purchases, which they had placed on the ground, and these immediately shrank to about 1/10th of their original size.

Fascinated and delighted at the same time, Emma hastened to put away the shopping in the school bag of a Hermione just as delighted. Only one box of shoes fitted, however, because the other had already end up in the trash, with Harry’s old sneakers inside. As they prepared to leave, Sephiroth's eyes fell on the front of the pawnshop near which they had stopped. And it was as if his heart stopped beating.

In the storefront was a sword that looked like a perfect copy of Angeal's Buster Sword and, later, Zack’s. He could even see Materia on the handle. One Summon, and three magics at least. He felt a curious burning sensation rising in his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize he wanted to cry. There were so many memories associated with this sword… as good as bad. Part of him was dying to retrieve this sword. The other, the tactician part, told him it would be a bad idea. On the one hand, they could not afford to buy it, even if he was dying for it. On the other… how could he have transported it? He had never owned a 1st class harness, never having needed it. He had discovered early on how to summon Masamune and send it back where it was when he didn’t need it. So… he had never been concerned about a harness. And Mini wouldn’t work on it. Like most of the SOLDIERS’ swords, it had runes engraved in the guard, which immunized them against magic.

Harry's hand in his interrupted his reminiscences filled with grief and melancholy. He looked down, meeting the worried look of the boy.

“Are you alright, Sephiroth?”

The latter gave him a sad smile, forgetting his stealing ideas.

“Yes, it's just that this sword… looks exactly like Angeal's, which he had passed on to Zack. It even looks like… there are Materia in it.”

Emma glanced at the sword in question, and blinked in shock at the sheer size of the sword.

“But… how did they manage it?” She asked in disbelief. “And above all…  _ how much _ does it weigh?”

Sephiroth couldn’t help but laugh, his dark thoughts more or less cast away.

“Mako, Emma,  _ large _ amounts of Mako. That and training. As for its weight... I think it had to weigh heavier than me, around a hundred pounds.”

Emma was speechless when she heard that. She wondered if Sephiroth could wield it, before deciding that she didn’t want to know in the end. He would have been able to tell her that he was capable of it! Sephiroth wanted to laugh at seeing her face, frankly amused. He was used to incredulous looks when people were trying to move the sword and they were failing. He always found it very funny, even though he rarely showed it. Even in SOLDIER, not everyone was able to do it.

They then went back to the metro, Sephiroth not hesitating to make use of his aura to make sure that the women were not bothered. He even took a pickpocket with his hand in the bag (literally). A dark look on his part was enough to convince the thief to apologize and give up, before running away, terrified. A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination, and got off the underground.

Fortunately, the shop was not more than a ten-minute walk away, but they still paused for Harry, aware that Harry had been educated to never complain. Neither Sephiroth nor Emma wanted to tire the boy's leg too much, so as not to aggravate the wound. On the way, they came across a fast food restaurant, and decided to stop there. The cashiers looked at Sephiroth with bewilderment at his gargantuan order. And even more, seeing that he could eat it all!

This time, Sephiroth didn’t really need to push Harry to eat, the boy being hungry enough to swallow everything. In addition, the attraction of the novelty was too strong for him to resist for a long time. The poor boy had never had the opportunity to taste that, and if it was not the best, it was passable, in his own words.

After the meal, they went back for the shop, taking their time to show the city to Sephiroth and Harry. Emma hadn’t been to this secondhand shop often, but she remembered where it was. She greeted the cashier, and they began to explore the place. The choice was smaller than Harrods, but Harry didn’t know where to turn anymore, and Emma and Hermione seemed to have decided to play doll with him. Fortunately, they remained respectful of his opinion, but Harry couldn’t help but be uncomfortable. And Sephiroth wasn’t much help, he was clearly chuckling in his corner. Emma, meanwhile, was looking forward to dealing with his case. He was going to wear color  _ elsewhere _ than on his underwear!

Sephiroth had looked around as the girls worked on Harry. There was nothing that really fascinated him here, but he had spotted two or three things for his protégé. He let out a discreet sigh. Harry had suffered so much that Sephiroth would rather deprive himself to allow him to live as a true child for the first time in his life. He had also the vague impression that Harry had slightly regressed mentally. Not much, certainly, but he seemed to behave more like a child of ten than thirteen.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the boy in question, who had come to take refuge behind him, trying to escape the two crazy shoppers, who giggled like mad. Sephiroth shook his head with amusement, and looked at the girls selection with a critical eye. A few t-shirts, three jeans, and sweaters as well as jackets for summer. There was even a jacket for winter, just in case. He nodded. It was not bad for a start, now to take care of his own case.

He kindly but firmly refused their help, and instead suggested they look for toys for Harry. He had seen the corners looks that he threw at a football. Dudley's toys were mostly broken in his " _ room _ " at Privet Drive. So Harry rarely had fun with them. He had admitted to reading the books whenever he could. As long as he was careful to put them back, the Dursleys were not aware of anything. Sephiroth was at least relieved to know that those days were behind him. He was going to have to deal quickly with telling the Goblins to add the word " _ bodyguard _ " to his fictional resume, he realized. He had forgotten that detail this morning. But with everything they had discovered... it went a little out of his head.

He shook his head, dropping back a t-shirt whose cut didn’t please him. He suspected that Emma would have been pleased to have him wear something other than black, but he liked the contrast between the silver of his hair and the dark leather. And as  _ she _ had told him, this palette of colors was inseparable from his character. He snorted, remembering that. What irony anyway. A long discussion on the subject between her and Genesis had concluded that her world was perhaps a Nexus. A place where people " _ saw _ " things from other worlds. Was that why Minerva sent them there? He wondered, selecting black pants. That would explain why she knew so much about them. And on those worlds in which they found themselves.

He let out a sigh. At least he knew the correspondence between his size and those of the clothes here. He wouldn’t have to try on clothes until he found out which size fit. Pulling out another t-shirt, he could not help but laugh at seeing the drawing on it, which represented a grumpy red cat, the fur in battle, a cup of coffee in one paw, and the other giving the Bird, with above and below a caption saying  _ “I get up early… or I get up friendly” _ . The color of the t-shirt was closer to midnight blue than black, but the cat just made him laugh, and he decided to take it. He continued to search, but found no other t-shirts of the same kind. He sighed with disappointment. Pity.  _ She _ liked those kinds of t-shirts, her favorite being one with two cartoon characters upside-down, with the caption " _ Stay Different, Stay Weird _ " below. He would have liked to find it, but never mind. After all, from what she said, they'd been out two years before for her… which meant at least a dozen here, if they ever went out.

He went on searching, finding some t-shirts that suited him, and putting back those that didn’t suit him. He also selected an autumn/winter jacket for himself, although the cold didn’t bothered him compared to a normal person. The shoes, on the other hand, were a real headache, and he resigned himself to go see the wizard side, or in a specialized shop. Harry had grown up with sneakers… but that kind of shoes did not really exist in Midgar, and, also, he had never put anything but combat boots. And he was used to the comfort they offered. Putting on something else… made him uncomfortable, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to fight. He had known of only that so long… that he had to make a conscious effort to get out of this model of thought. That or a very… specific distraction.

He sighed, forcing his mind away from that, it wasn’t the moment. All he was hoping for… was that he could find his friends… and  _ her _ . Frowning, he remembered the last days with them, trying to ignore the feeling of something missing. After giving Genesis and Angeal his blood, in an effort to protect them from eventual Degradation in the future, they began to be able to communicate mentally, and the connection became clearer as time passed and the living cells multiplied by absorbing the dead ones in their bodies. Oh, they kept their individuality, and they did not hear the thoughts of the others unless they were willingly sent… or distracted. He chuckled softly thinking about it, vaguely embarrassed anyway. Sometimes… they accidentally sent each other their desire… which didn’t help to calm themselves down. He shook his head, a little saddened anyway. Sephiroth forced himself to finish his initial train of thought. With the Jenova’s cells that they had… hum, transmitted to her during their activities, at the end, they managed to feel her emotions and to locate her more or less.

The ex-general sighed, closing his eyes with grief. That's how he knew she was dead… and Genesis too. He had felt it, even though he didn't want to believe it. Feeling her spirit go out… shocked him. The grief, pain and anger from Genesis had taught him everything he needed to know. His death, mere moments later, had shaken him even more. And the resigned despair of Angeal… the feeling that he had nothing left to lose… And he had been too far away to communicate effectively with him. And remind him that he was not alone.

Sephiroth narrowly restrained himself when seeing that frost was forming on the clothes he was holding. With a muttered curse, he regained control of his emotions and aura. If only  _ she _ were here… He would not have so many problems. Another sigh escaped him. With a bit of luck… Jenova's cells would have clung to her soul and were present in her current incarnation. If she ever woke up… what he prayed for… he would be able to feel her presence. In any case, he hoped. Brushing the frost of the clothes he had chosen, he was relieved to see that no one seemed to have noticed anything. Sephiroth mentally added everything he had, and decided it would be enough for the moment. They could always come back later when needed. For now… the budget was already going to be struggling with all their expenses. Maybe they could still take something, but not much more.

The ex-general went in search of the others. Not surprisingly, Hermione was in the book corner, her mother flipping through some books on her side, making him smile. He frowned slightly, however, as he saw Harry sat on a chair next to them, the clothes for him on his lap. He gently made his presence known, and the two bibliophiles jumped in surprise, making Harry giggle. Sephiroth winked at him, before smiling at the girls, who looked embarrassed.

“I think we'll probably stop there for now, Emma. If I have to go back to the Goblins, maybe we can take advantage of it to get more things, but I think we've got enough things for today.”

Emma nodded as she put her book back.

“A good idea, Sephiroth. Harry was getting tired, but the owner was kind enough to bring him a chair when I explained to him that he had an injured leg.”

The warrior nodded with satisfaction at hearing that. He could see that Harry looked a little pale indeed, but luckily they were done for this time. Sephiroth noticed that Hermione was reluctant to put her book back, and he blinked in surprise as he saw it. Could that be…

“Hermione, can I see this book?” He asked gently.

A little surprised, Hermione nodded and handed it to him. Sephiroth took it gently and turned it between his hands. No, he wasn’t dreaming, it was  _ Loveless _ . What was the book doing here? Delicately, he opened it, looking for a name written inside. And indeed, against all odds, the name of Genesis was inside. Sephiroth delicately flipped through the book, noting that a Fifth Act completed the poem in this copy. The ex-general knew only one book having the famous lost fifth act, and it was indeed that of Genesis. The question being…  _ how _ could it be still intact after more than ten thousand years? The cover was slightly worn, which was hardly surprising given the number of times Genesis had it in his hands. A sad smile stretched his lips as he remembered their lover. She had liked to hear him declaim the poem, especially when she wasn’t feeling well. Closing the book, he gently stroked the golden ornaments.

He had serious suspicions now. First the plushies, then Angeal's sword, and now the book that was almost as inseparable from Genesis as his red sword? Just…  _ what _ was Minerva doing? Why did she put all these clues in his way? He let out a sigh. Aerith and Zack had been the only ones interacting with the Goddess on a regular basis. Even  _ she _ had spoken to her only once, and asked her to join the Lifestream of Gaia. For the rest… Sephiroth had never seen her himself. He doubted, however, to ever see her. He didn’t see what could  _ push _ Minerva to speak to him. He didn’t venerated her with the same fervor as Genesis, and he himself had seen her only once… and Minerva hadn’t spoken to him.

His gaze fell on Hermione, who was looking at him anxiously, as if she feared he would put the book back on the shelf.

“Does this book interest you?” He asked gently.

She nodded shyly.

“It intrigues me,” she admitted softly. “Do you recognize it?” She asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Sephiroth confirmed softly. “This book… Loveless… belonged to Genesis. And the reason I'm sure of it… regardless of whether his name is inscribed inside… is that there is a Fifth Act in the poem in his copy.”

“And to hear you, it's an unusual thing,” Emma remarked, helping Harry get up and grabbing his things.

“Loveless's Fifth Act was considered lost by those who devoted themselves to Loveless's study, Emma,” the silverette replied, adding the book to the pile of purchases. “The stones tablets on which the poem was engraved on at Banora contained only the first four acts. Carbon dating of the stones indicated, according to Genesis, that they dated from the era of Cetras, ie at least 2 to 3000 years. The last stone containing the Final Act was in pieces, and the surface worn away by erosion caused by a trickle of water running down its surface.”

“So it had become completely unreadable,” Emma said thoughtfully, giving the money requested. “Tell me, do you know where this book comes from?” She inquired curiously as she pointed to the book.

The woman who cashed them looked with surprise, turning the question over for a few seconds before answering.

“Honestly, I cannot tell you exactly where it came from, it was already there when I bought the shop. I am surprised that you take it though, it must have been ten years that I took this shop, and no one ever wanted it. It's as if it had chosen you.”

Sephiroth held an amused snort at hearing that. This person was probably much closer to the truth than she imagined. He raised an eyebrow at seeing Emma pay the book apart with her own credit card, before realizing it was probably because it was something for Hermione. Seeing that Harry was limping slightly, despite all his efforts to hide it, Sephiroth exchanged a look with Emma, who nodded, taking the bags. Sephiroth squatted in front of Harry, to everyone's surprise, and looked at him over his shoulder. The boy seemed ready to die of embarrassment, but the silverette didn’t intend to drop the matter.

“Get on, Harry,” he said softly but firmly. “I think we've forced enough on your leg for the moment. I don’t want to aggravate your wound, okay?”

The latter hesitated a moment longer, but Hermione gently pushed him forward, and he complied, a little reluctantly. Hermione exchanged a victorious glance with her mother, who was smiling smugly. Fortunately, the bags were not too bulky, so she decided not to ask Sephiroth to miniaturize them. Sephiroth waited to feel Harry clinging to his shoulder with his good hand, then gently grabbing his passenger under the thighs, making sure he had a firm grip before getting back up.

Harry clutched on with his good hand, red with embarrassment. He buried his nose in his protector's hair, not daring to look at the people around him. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Sephiroth's hair… smelled in a strange way. Not the usual products for washing, he remarked. When Petunia was washing him… before he learned to do it alone… she always used a cheap product that smelled of chemicals rather than soap. Even to go to Hogwarts he had nothing else. Fortunately, Dean and Seamus had been kind enough to share their bath products with him, and the following year they had bought them for him, sharing the costs between them. Sephiroth… smelled especially of ice, strangely. But not ice cream, no, more like a lake frozen in winter, accompanied by leather, which surprised him less… and something that looked like dark chocolate. There was also residual smell of shampoo, and Harry had insisted on paying Dean and Seamus back when they had to write home to ask for additional bath products for Sephiroth. Fortunately, he had the idea to change the length of his hair to shower, explaining that otherwise he would empty a whole bottle in two shower maximum. Which was not surprising, given the length of his mane.

A slight smile spread to Sephiroth's lips as he felt Harry slowly begin to relax against his back. He felt his breath tickle his neck, but it didn’t bother him. Finally, Harry relaxed enough to put his chin on Sephiroth's shoulder, to his satisfaction. The boy's face was partly hidden by his hair, but he had at least adopted a comfortable position.

Emma wanted to coo at the scene, but she refrained out of respect for Harry. She exchanged a triumphant look with Hermione, who gave the impression of sulking slightly, as if she envied her friend. Her daughter was holding the pale pink book in her arms, almost as if it were about to disappear, as with the plushy. Emma was a little puzzled by Hermione's reaction, though. For a moment… her daughter… had made her feel like she was no longer there. As if her mind was light-years away from her body, lost in a distant memory. Emma didn’t really understand why, and that worried her somewhere. However… a look at Sephiroth, who was negotiating the crowd with skill and elegance, reassured her. Whatever may happen with her daughter… the warrior would watch over her.

Thinking about enlisting Hermione elsewhere made her sad, if what Sephiroth said was true. Maybe she should think about enrolling her in another country, she thought. Maybe in France, since they spoke good French and their diplomas would be valid there. In any case, she was sure he would not stay in England. Maybe in America in this case, or even in Australia, since Harry spoke only English. She sighed. Emma didn’t want to separate Harry and Hermione, but moving to France would already be barely within their budget… and she didn’t want to ask Harry too much. He would be able to insist on paying for the move!

She sighed again as they arrived at the subway station. Sephiroth had at least the presence of mind to place his ticket and Harry's in an easily accessible pocket, and raised an eyebrow at the controllers nearby, challenging them to say anything. Harry had fallen asleep on his back, and he didn’t want to wake him if it wasn’t necessary. He exchanged an amused and indulgent smile with Emma, feeling Harry snuggle a little closer to him like a kitten. The latter seemed to regret not having a camera on hand, just to immortalize the scene in front of her. The silverette was almost certain that if she could, she would have gone to buy one on purpose just for that. Because once he got to the car, he was going to have to wake Harry up to tie his belt himself.

The trip was calm, without any problem (and no pickpocket tried to do their pockets this time), and they quickly joined the vehicle. Once there, Sephiroth gently woke Harry, who looked supremely embarrassed to have fallen asleep on his back. Sephiroth just reassured him. If Harry had fallen asleep, it was because he needed it, and especially because he trusts him enough to do so, which the silverette considered a compliment. Sephiroth let him get on his own, and helped Emma put the last shopping in the trunk… which consisted mostly of taking Hermione's bag, which then climbed into the back seat, tying herself next to Harry, while Sephiroth discreetly miniaturized the shopping’s bags as Emma passed them to him. She couldn’t help but chuckle as the objects in Sephiroth's hands almost disappeared, including the Football, which was reduced to the size of a tennis ball, before disappearing into Hermione’s bag.

Once all the shopping in the school bag, Emma closed the trunk while Sephiroth moved to the front. She noticed that he stared at the gear shifter thoughtfully, and asked why as she started the car.

“I'll have to ask the Goblins to get me a driver's license,” he explained in response. “I know how to drive both automatic and manual cars, but I've… lost my hand at it,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed. “And I don’t know if the Goblins have thought of adding a driver's license in my papers.”

Emma nodded, checking the traffic with a glance.

“Indeed, it seems logical to me. If you want, can we try tomorrow? This way, you will be able to see how much you need to practice.”

Sephiroth thought for a few seconds before nodding.

“You’re right, Emma. Thank you. I promise to do my best not to crash your car into a ditch,” he joked, making her laugh.

“I’ll take your word for it, Sephiroth. I'd tell you to pay for repairs, but you don’t have any money… and Harry has already paid enough for things like that.”

“Exactly,” Sephiroth confirmed, amused. “Maybe I should see with the Goblins to find a job,” he said thoughtfully. “But I don’t want to leave Harry alone.”

Emma nodded with a sigh. After what had happened... she could understand that Sephiroth was on his guard. Something told her that he would probably not relax before they were in another country, out of Dumbledore's reach. She didn’t know what the other spells that had been on Harry were, and didn’t ask about it.

She then looked at Harry in the rear-view mirror, who was plunged into a heated discussion with Hermione about Charms, one of their classes. It reminded her that Sephiroth had told them about the likely power of Harry, now that he was free from the burden spell placed on his… she didn’t say home because it was clear that Privet Drive had not been a home for Harry. Rather a prison. She looked at Sephiroth, who was also staring at the children with amusement, and decided that she would approach the subject the next day, when he would certainly have had time to talk to Harry about the spells in question.

She took the opportunity to ask more questions about the magic of Sephiroth's time, the children silencing themselves to listen to the conversation, just as interested. Even though the ex-general hadn’t been an expert in Materia, he knew enough to explain at least the basics. And since Angeal wasn’t good with Materia, and Genesis an explosive pyroman, teaching the basics to the cadets often fell on him. He didn’t tolerate any nonsense during his classes, however, and anyone who fooled around during his explanations were excluded, with no possibility of returning. Emma approved this severity wholeheartedly, especially when it concerned the offensive Materias. The curatives were treated less severely, but the one that could poison people was generally covered at the same time as the offensive, and he agreed to teach its use only if the younger cadets also had a Healing Materia with Poisona or Esuna.

She didn’t see the time pass, and was almost surprised to arrive in their neighborhood. Slowing down, she parked in front of their house, chuckling as she imagined Nathan's face in front of the few bags they had brought back... at least in appearance. Sephiroth helped Harry down, letting Hermione get her bag back, Loveless still in her hand. Emma opened the door for them, and the silverette helped Harry move to the sofa, where Nathan was. The latter raised an eyebrow at seeing that they had apparently nothing with them, and looked at his wife, perplexed.

“You left almost all day, and you come back with nothing? Are you sure you went shopping?” He joked. “I see that Harry has new shoes, but other than that, you didn’t find anything for them?”

Emma giggled with amusement, and motioned for Hermione to give her her bag. She complied with an amused smile, much to his father's perplexity, especially when he saw that she was taking out what looked like miniature plastic bags, lining them on the coffee table. His wife made an amusing gesture towards Sephiroth, and the latter cast Mini again on the purchases, returning them to their original size and snatching a shocked exclamation from Nathan, making everyone laugh, including Harry. Nathan had jumped in surprise, before looking at Sephiroth reproachfully.

“You could have told me you could do that! You haven’t had trouble with the Ministry of Magic?”

Sephiroth laughs softly at that.

“Nathan, remember what I told you last night. Knowledge about Materias was lost about ten thousand years ago, around the Fall of the Meteor. The exploitation of Mako had proved too dangerous for the Planet, despite the fact that it was concentrated in a very small area of the planet. My actions, paradoxically... helped save her, while Jenova wanted to destroy her. After Meteorfall... Mako began to be replaced by other energies, including oil and gas, and Materias gradually ceased to be used. I would be surprised if more than a handful of people still remember their existence when Minerva submerged the Sacred Land.”

Nathan nodded, absently pushing the football, which had rolled up to him, while talking.

“So, wizards don’t know the magic of Materias, and cannot detect it? I thought there was a... Trace on the wands, right? Who detects the magic used? By the way... how did they detect the Levitating Charm on the cake? It seems to me that Dobby was responsible, right?”

Sephiroth nodded, sitting next to Harry, putting his arm around his shoulders.

“The Trace... is a hoax, Nathan. I'm sorry to tell you that, but if they say that, it's all about preventing Muggleborn children from practicing magic outside of school. In reality, it is a mesh of stones detecting the magic spread over the whole country which allows them to detect the magic. In addition, I think Dobby probably imitated the signature of a magic wand. In a house where wizards live, they are unable to determine  _ who _ used a spell.”

Hermione looked furious.

“But... it's absurd! That means Purebloods can do magic when they want, and they never have a problem with the Ministry!”

“Unfortunately yes, Hermione,” Sephiroth replied softly. “And that's why we'll have to go to the forest, regardless of whether I want to show my Shadow Creepers or an Invocation to Nathan.”

“Why?” Harry asked timidly.

The silver-haired warrior looked at him with a hint of sadness, surprising Harry.

“Harry, aside from the spells on your house, the spells for hiding unapproved owls except the Ministry, Hogwarts or the owl called Errol, weren’t the only ones that were affixed to you and fed of your magic.”

“Besides, why was Errol approved?” Hermione asked, frowning. “Why the Weasley family owl and not another? And how could Hedwig find Harry?”

Sephiroth leaned against the backseat thoughtfully.

“I suppose a clause had to be woven into the spell, in case Harry decided to take an owl as a companion. To come back to the spells on you, Harry... there were many spells to watch you. Many others were related to the protections on the Dursleys house, as I told your aunt yesterday. And these... literally devoured your magic. If you had a quarter of your magic at your disposal, it was already a lot. And there is also practically  _ half _ of your magic blocked.”

Hermione, like Harry, was speechless when he heard that. The only thing that kept Harry from bursting into tears or having an episode of accidental magic under the effect of anger was Sephiroth's comforting arm around his shoulders. They had used him like a battery, without any consideration for his intimacy or his state of health. The boy realized that he was crying only when Sephiroth's hand gently wiped his tears. The stifled sobs made their way out of his mouth, and it took longer to calm down. What Dumbledore did... it was pure cruelty, Harry realized in the depths of his mind. He wouldn’t like not being able to see Hermione, Neville, or even Ron, yes, but the idea of being in the same building as the one who did that... terrified him even more than the idea of coming face to face with Esmeralda. At least she had been kind, and had done her best to make him comfortable.

Finally, Harry stopped crying, and he whispered a thank-you to Sephiroth when he helped him clean his face, before allowing him to blow his nose. He looked at the ex-general imploringly, sniffing. He didn’t know how to formulate the question, but Sephiroth could apparently read it in his eyes. He smiled sadly, but gently, before comforting him.

“Don’t worry about those spells, Harry. Except for the one who restrains your power, and for which we will go to see a professional healer in a while, I took care of all those who siphoned your magic.”

“Why?” Harry asked without understanding.

“For two reasons, Harry,” Sephiroth explained gently. “The first is that I am not a healer, and that I don’t know if there will be consequences if I destroyed the block. The second is that you  _ first _ have to get used to the increased power, which is one of the reasons we will go to the forest, so you can practice magic. In this way, even if you accidentally use too much power, no one will be there to realize it. In addition, the magic net surveillance doesn’t cover all the forest surfaces, and since these stones use magic to work, I would be able to locate them.”

“You do not know where they are?” Asked Emma, curious.

“Not precisely,” the silverette explained, looking at her. “I know more or less where most are thanks to the Lifestream, especially in urban areas, but in the forest it is more difficult. Otherwise, I suppose we could ask wizard families if we can practice at their home,” he said thoughtfully. “It's an idea to explore.”

“Not the Weasleys though,” Emma said, frowning. “If their owl was allowed to bring mail to Harry, but no other…”

Sephiroth shook his head, to her surprise.

“I doubt that the whole family is in the loop, Emma. Surely not the kids anyway, and maybe not even their two parents. I'll probably know more once the Goblins have finished their investigations, but I certainly wouldn’t forbid Harry to see them if he decides to.”

“And if they don’t accept that you come?” Hermione asked anxiously, having finally managed to calm down.

Sephiroth's gently amused laughter sent chills down everyone's back, and each person in the room blessed the fact that Sephiroth  _ wasn’t _ their enemy. The latter replied with amusement to Hermione's question.

“Whether they like it or not, I'd come anyway if Harry goes to see them. I don’t intend to stop him from going to visit them, it's true, but it doesn’t mean that I will abandon him. And currently, Dumbledore has no idea where Harry might be, because even the spells for Hedwig's location are taken in charge by Hogwarts, who probably simulates their location.”

“There were spells for locating Hedwig on her?” Harry asked, upset. “But why?”

Sephiroth shook his head in response.

“I'm not really sure, Harry. Is it to locate you if you accidentally manage to destroy the spells intended to inform of your location?  _ Who _ you write to? Honestly, I'm not sure of anything right now.”

Harry could only nod, and he closed his eyes, snuggling up against Sephiroth. The latter hadn’t once blamed him for crying, but he was still afraid of receiving a hit when he began to sob. Sephiroth's arm hadn’t left his place around his shoulders, comforting him. His life had completely changed since the silver-haired warrior had come into his life, and if he was still struggling to adjust to the changes... he had to admit he preferred them to what he was going through before. When he did something, Sephiroth  _ asked _ him his opinion beforehand, or explained to him why he was doing something. Unlike Dumbledore, who had sent him back to the Dursleys after his first year without giving him any explanation or a word of comfort... the ex-general had explained to him why he had made that decision, and then comforted him. When he said something... he did it, or would do it. Sephiroth didn’t change his mind like the Dursleys, who seemed to take pleasure in changing the rules just to be able to yell at him afterwards. They hadn’t really raised their hands on him since he had start Hogwarts... but that didn’t stop them from continuing to shout at him for a yes or no. And that without counting last summer, where they had locked him in his room, almost without feeding him.

The rest of the evening was pretty... gloomy, despite the efforts of Emma and Nathan. Harry lit up anyway when Hermione suggested watching  _ Space Jam _ . He spent most of the movie chuckling at the nonsense of the characters, and remained pensive after the end. Sephiroth did not know if Hermione had suggested the movie for the comic side (even if he had to confess to laughing himself in front of it) or the message behind it.  _ Believe in yourself and in your dreams, and everything becomes possible, even the impossible. _ He gently carried Harry into " _ their _ " room, and helped him change, cleaning his wound. It didn’t look as good as he would have liked, but it hadn’t worsened as much as he had feared.

Sephiroth decided that he would wait until the next day to suggest a shower to Emma and Nathan, to see if they would have an idea on how to protect the wound from the water. Hedwig had returned to rest on the head of the bed, having spent the evening perched on Harry's shoulder, smoothing his hair as she would have smoothed the feathers of another owl, making the boy smile, who had petted her at the same time. Once Harry was asleep, Sephiroth laid down on his own mattress, closing his eyes and meditating. He may have been a lot slower to explode than Genesis... that didn’t mean he didn’t have a temper. And this time... he had no one to calm him if he started to get upset.

What he didn’t know was that he was going to have to do this very often in the next few weeks.

oOo

_ Sephiroth opened his eyes, disconcerted. He would have sworn he'd fallen asleep... so why was he in a field of flowers? Frowning, he studied his environment. It wasn’t until he looked up at the sky that he realized where he was. Above him, the sky wasn’t blue, as one might have been expected. On the contrary, it was composed of pale green filaments, around which floated tiny points of light. A fairly accurate representation of the Lifestream. Sephiroth looked around him, perplexed. _

_ Normally he came to this place, which could have been related to the famous Limbo, only when Aerith and Zack needed to talk to him. And the last time it happened... was just before their last trip between the worlds. Before sealing him, Aerith had apologized for not being able to intervene. Sephiroth didn’t blame her, though. Angeal... had made it clear that they had been... "blocked" from the Lifestream. And as Zack and she were part of it... they couldn’t do anything to intervene. _

_ Except that now... neither the Puppy nor his Flower Girl were present. Usually... they showed up very quickly, as soon as he arrived or almost. Sephiroth was still thinking about this mystery when a voice came up behind him. Powerful and profound, it gave the impression of being a chorus of millions of voices speaking in unison. _

_ “Greetings, my Silver Sword.” _

_ Surprised, he turned around, before kneeling, bowing his head. For before him stood a woman with long golden hair, dressed in an imposing armor covered with gold and silver, and whose long pieces of cloth gave the illusion of forming wings. Other ornaments on her back formed small wings around a wheel, and a ruby was set on her chest. She held a scepter in her right hand, and an imposing shield of gold and silver in the other. Even without ever having seen her with his own eyes, Sephiroth could easily have recognized her, thanks to Genesis passionate descriptions. _

_ He had  _ Minerva _ herself in front of him. A small part of his mind told him that Genesis would probably have a fit of jealousy if he ever learned that Minerva had given him the honor of speaking to him, another was puzzled by the title she had given him, another wondered why the  _ GODDESS _ in person gave him this honor, and the rest feared the  _ reason _ for which she was present. _

_ “Minerva,” he murmured respectfully. “To what do I owe this… honor?” _

_ “Rise, Sephiroth Valentine,” she ordered softly. “And look at me. I am not angry against you.” _

_ The latter obeyed hesitantly, disconcerted. Even if Minerva wasn’t mad at him...  _ Why _ did she appeared to him? He noticed that she was watching him attentively, and forced himself to remain calm. Finally, Minerva nodded royally, and spoke again. _

_ “Your actions towards Harry James Potter are worthy of praise, my Silver Sword.” _

_ Sephiroth bowed respectfully, before answering, controlling his voice. The fact of facing the  _ very consciousness _ of the Planet made him extremely nervous, especially considering the fact that he had tried to destroy it, even if it wasn’t of his own free will. _

_ “It's an honor to hear you say that, O Minerva. However... I cannot imagine that you have decided to deign to honor me with your presence only to congratulate me.” _

_ He noticed the sad, approving smile of the Goddess in response. _

_ “No, my Sword. I know you do not want to let Harry James Potter go back to Hogwarts.” _

_ Sephiroth clenched his fists when he heard that, his fears being confirmed. _

_ “No,” he conceded. “After what Dumbledore did to him... I doubt I could be in the same room than him without giving to the urge to destroying him... in every sense of the word.” _

_ Minerva nodded as she heard him. _

_ “Sephiroth Valentine... my Silver Sword... Destiny is often cursed by many people, even by us Goddesses,” she said softly, making him blink with surprise. “However... sometimes it cannot be changed completely. Deviated, yes, but not changed.” _

_ Sephiroth looked at her, almost horrified. She could not possibly mean... _

_ “You mean Harry... must go back to Hogwarts?” He asked, unable to stifle the horror in his voice. “But…” _

_ Minerva gently raised her hand, interrupting him. _

_ “If the child doesn’t return to Hogwarts... things will be much, much worse. The future is already dark. It will be entirely under the sign of Darkness if Harry James Potter doesn’t return to Hogwarts.” _

_ “To what point?” Sephiroth asked, his mouth dry. _

_ Part of him wanted to challenge the Goddess. Had Harry not suffered enough like that? As if reading his thoughts, Minerva made an elegant gesture with her hand... and the landscape around them changed. Sephiroth watched, horrified, a future where Harry, isolated and mistreated to the end, sacrificed his life for the world... before being used by Ginny, enslaved by Love Potions. Minerva's voice pulled him from his thoughts, anchoring him in the present. _

_ “This future is already obsolete, my Silver Sword,” she said softly, relieving him. “What you saw... is what would have happened if he had never found you.” _

_ Sephiroth nodded with some relief. Knowing that this future wouldn’t happen was helping him, but... what would happen if he didn’t let Harry get back to Hogwarts? Sephiroth wanted to be selfish and take Harry as far away as possible from England to protect him. Once more, as if in response to his thoughts, Minerva waved her hand, and the landscape around them changed again. _

_ Sephiroth fought his urge to vomit when he saw what would happen in this hypothetical future. A strange and completely absurd house razed to the foundations, with the bodies of Weasley family members lying all over the place, fatally burned. Ginny, used as a sex slave by people who were clearly Death Eaters. Hermione... slaughtered by these same animals, forced to watch her family being murdered atrociously in front of her, unable to save them. Luna, suffering the same fate as Ginny. Neville, broken, used as a handyman by these monsters, treated like a house elf. And so many others, whom he barely knew, or had only crossed in the halls of the school. _

_ “Enough, please,” he begged painfully. “I understand.” _

_ The pictures stopped at his request, relieving him. He looked at Minerva, his expression defeated. _

_ “I understand why you showed me all that. But... if I let Harry go back to Hogwarts... what tells me that Dumbledore isn’t going to cause any problems? Or that he will not be able to seize Harry?” _

_ Minerva looked at him with sadness and indulgence. _

_ “This arrogant fool doesn’t imagine that his plans can be countered. Besides... how do you think this child was able to find you?” _

_ In front of Sephiroth's look of incomprehension, Minerva conjured up other images with a gesture of the hand. The ex-general felt his heart squeeze as he saw the scene of Harry's parents' death. His father's attempt to give his wife time to escape with their son. His failure. The panic of Harry's mother, realizing she was trapped. The time that gave the impression to stop at the death of the young woman, a spell bustling on the cradle... but insufficient against the Killing Curse. Her plea to the Goddess to protect Harry. Even if her soul was to disappear. All that mattered was that her baby survived. The Goddess, touched by her prayer, reinforcing the protection around the child. The spell, bouncing back to its caster. A leap forward, showing tiny touches of the Goddess, pointing Harry towards this or that direction, as subtle as the caress of a downy feather. The way she had pushed him to see the paper in Hermione's hand. His decision to go down alone. _

_ The images stopped, and Sephiroth looked at her. He understood better  _ why _ Harry had been able to find him. All these subtle little encouragements... _

_ “Why?” He asked softly. “Why did you do all this?” _

_ “Your lover had told you about parallel worlds, was it not?” Minerva asked softly in response. “Sometimes... holes open between the worlds. And we can communicate with other versions of ourselves. And too many versions... of these events show a dark future, which never really clears up.” _

_ “Then... you decided to change things,” Sephiroth murmured. _

_ “Yes,” confirmed the Goddess. “Also... if you accept that Harry James Potter returns to Hogwarts... you will be rewarded.” _

_ Sephiroth looked at her without understanding, anger and hope fighting in his heart. _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ Images appeared in response around him, and he felt his heart clenching painfully as he contemplated them. Genesis, who was practicing with his sword or reciting Loveless passionately, sitting under the shade of a Banora apple tree, a familiar figure lying next to him, her head on his legs, enjoying the sun. Angeal, who took care of plants, or polished his sword, talking quietly with his childhood friend. Or, who also took a nap in the sun, the same silhouette using his belly as a pillow. And his heart missed a beat when he saw  _ her _ turn in his direction and smile at him. He also saw Zack, lifting a young woman in his arms, making her twirl around with a laugh. Aerith. He could see there were subtle differences in their appearances, but his brain was just  _ not _ able to integrate them. When the images stopped, he took a deep breath and looked at Minerva imploringly. _

_ “They... reincarnated?” He asked, not caring about the fact that his voice gave the impression that it was going to break. _

_ Minerva nodded slowly. _

_ “They aren’t all awake yet, but what do you think their reaction will be if they learn that you have deliberately brought darkness to their country, not to mention the world?” _

_ Sephiroth closed his eyes when he heard that. Oh yes, he could easily imagine it. _

_ “They will be furious with me,” he said softly. “But... that does not mean that I'm  _ happy _ to do this.” _

_ He raised his head, surprised, feeling a hand caressing his cheek, and his breath caught in his throat when he met the blue eyes of the Goddess, who was looking at him with compassion. _

_ “And I am not asking you to,” she said softly. “All I ask of you, my Silver Sword... is patience. Some things  _ must _ happen so that Tom Marvolo Riddle can disappear for good.” _

_ Sephiroth let out a sigh, closing his eyes briefly. _

_ “One thing that’s certain,” he said softly, his voice holding an implacable promise, “is that I will  _ not _ let Harry finds himself on the front lines of a battle or kill if I can avoid it. He had suffered enough like that.” _

_ Minerva offered him a tender smile. _

_ “I know it, my Sword. And I approve of it wholeheartedly. Do not worry about Harry James Potter's guardianship,” she said as their surroundings dissipated in a bright, blinding mist. “ _ He _ no longer has any rights over him.” _

_ Before Sephiroth could ask her for details, his world dissipated, and he felt himself fall. _

oOo

Sephiroth sat up abruptly on his mattress, panting, and looked furiously around him. He took several seconds to understand that he was awake, and closed his eyes, tears running silently down his cheeks. He didn’t want to wake up Harry, but by Shiva, he wanted  _ so much _ to cry with all his heart. Seeing these pictures... had shaken him to the bottom of his soul. He wanted so much to curse the Goddess... because all he wanted now… was to find his friends and  _ her _ … and never lose sight of them again. Part of him… just wanted to kidnap them and lock them away so that they would never be harmed again, as with Harry. But he knew his friends. They would never agree to do that. And he knew they would stand by him to the end, whatever the fight.

Sephiroth laid back on his inflatable mattress, struggling against his grief and the  _ emptiness _ in his heart, trying not to lose control of his aura. He was afraid to freeze the whole house if it happened.

In another room in the house, Hermione awoke with a start, crying without understanding where the endless sorrow and pain were coming from, crushing her heart. And that feeling of  _ emptiness _ in her soul... as if she were missing a part of herself. She took hours to go back to sleep, trying to forget this incomprehensible sensation.

oOo

_ Harry was curled up in the darkness, shaking and crying softly. Around him he could hear voices ringing. They were those of people he knew, both those he liked and those he hated because they were the ones who mistreated him. _

_ “Freak!” _

_ “You should have died with your freakish parents!” _

_ “You are not wanted here!” _

_ The voices of his uncle and aunt were the strongest, followed by Dudley and his friends, who were laughing cruelly. In fact, their voices didn’t really bother him, because what they said he expected. It was the other voices that hurt him. Hermione, looking at him with a disgusted air, saying, "Why do we want to be friends with someone like you?” Ron telling him that he didn’t want to be friends with him anymore, and he attracted too much danger to be worth the risk, Neville saying he didn’t want to be hurt by staying close to him... but the worst was Sephiroth, who looked at him contemptuously, telling him that he was a burden, and that he didn’t see why he was encumbered with him. _

_ Darkness had gradually swallowed Harry, who hadn’t struggled. His head had begun to hurt him shortly before, and the pain had continued to rise. He had quickly stopped begging for it to stop, seeing that it was useless. He had of course heard a faint murmur of voices in the background at first, too weak to distinguish the words, but it was quickly drowned by the hateful voices of his "family" and others. The boy had the impression to hear another voice among the others, filled with malicious joy. The latter grew stronger and stronger, until a blinding light came out, visible even through his closed eyes, silencing all voices except the choir in the background. _

_ Harry remained frozen, disoriented. The darkness seemed to have disappeared, if he trusted the soft light that filtered through his eyelids. He also felt like a slight breeze ruffled his hair, but it was something tickling his nose that made him open his eyes, surprised. His gaze fell on an endless meadow, the grass gently undulating in the breeze, with white and yellow flowers vaguely resembling lilies, but which would have had only one flower at the end of their stem, which gently undulated too. _

_ Slowly, Harry straightened up, and looked around him, perplexed. The fact that the nightmare seems to have stopped... was nice, but he was afraid that it would resume at one time or another. Looking up, he gaped at the strange pale green sky, with its millions of luminous filaments surrounded by tiny points of light. The boy stood hesitantly, looking around. He was apparently alone, which he counted as a good point for now, although he would have appreciated a little company. Just when he thought that, a movement drew his attention to his left, and he turned his head, seeing a silhouette in the distance. The latter was dressed in what looked vaguely like armor, which disappeared at the same time into millions of pyreflies, like the crystal that had hold Sephiroth within it. Harry was surprised to realize at that moment that he could see it perfectly well, then shrugged, deciding that it was surely a dream, and that anything could happen. _

_ He looked at the silhouette in the distance, whose long blond hair was lifted by the breeze, hesitating to approach. He felt instinctively that this person, whoever they were, was infinitely more powerful than any mortal, even Sephiroth. Finally, it was the whispering around him that made him move. He didn’t even really understand why he followed their advice, but something deep inside him... told him that this person would never hurt him. He walked slowly into the field of flowers, not daring to run, and trying to avoid trampling the flowers. The person continued to turn their backs on him, preventing him from determining whether they were a man or a woman, even though he would have said it was a woman, despite the fact that Sephiroth's hair was just as long. However... the build of this person was finer and more graceful than that of the silverette. _

_ Harry froze when she turned as he came near her. The woman standing before him was at least as tall as Sephiroth, perhaps even taller, and of an ethereal beauty that impressed him, despite the gentle smile she offered him. Her fine, elegant face made him think of an elf, this impression reinforced by the sort of gold tiara she wore, set with a pale sapphire in its center, the golden filigree chains being lost in her hair, and forming a complex pattern on her forehead, around the pale sapphire. Harry could only look at her silently, mute with admiration. He blinked, however, when she bent down, surprised, putting her face leveled to his, her blue eyes containing an old wisdom. Her dress fanned around her, laying on the ground. _

_ “Hello ma'am,” said the boy timidly. _

_ She laughed softly, visibly delighted to see him so polite. Her laugh made him think of a carillon, as if a million voices sounded in perfect harmony. She reached out, stroking his forehead, and the pain gave him the impression of being drained out of his head, to his utmost relief. She smiled slightly at him, her expression reminding him of Molly with her children... and at the same time, subtly different. He would have been unable to say why, having never met another mother. _

_ “So much politeness for a soul so marked by suffering,” she said softly, making him blink, puzzled. “You should never have had to endure all this, my treasured child.” _

_ “I don’t understand,” shyly dared Harry. _

_ Again, that crystalline laugh, almost tinkling... sadly, it seemed to him. _

_ “Your bloodline... seems destined for strife, my treasured child. And luck... has never been on your family side. One day, you'll understand,” she said softly. “For the moment... your fears are unfounded, my treasured child.” _

_ “My fears?” Harry questioned hesitantly. _

_ Around him, the atmosphere darkened slightly, before a breeze dispersed the shadows that were trying to form, the elegant woman stroking his cheek. _

_ “Those fears that have darkened your dreams, my treasured child, are unfounded,” she repeated softly, caressing his forehead, her fingers lightly brushing against his scar. “Sephiroth... has never had more than one word. He will never abandon you. And neither your friends.” _

_ “Really?” Harry asked, his imploring voice. “You are sure?” _

_ Minerva then yielded to her desire to take him in her arms, unable to resist those green eyes any longer, so similar to those of a Cetra who had given her life to save her. Harry stiffened at first, took by surprise, before slowly relaxing in that warm embrace, which vaguely reminded him of something. A memory buried deep inside him, that of having been loved more than anything else in the world. He began to cry without being able to stop himself, clinging to the dress of this stranger, who began to hum slowly, the words incomprehensible… and yet so familiar. Finally, he managed to stop crying, barely surprised to realize that the dress of this lady wasn’t even wet. The latter hadn’t let go, and continued to caress his back. _

_ After a while, she released her grip slightly and gave him a soft smile. _

_ “Do you want to see why I told you that your friends will never abandon you?” She asked gently. _

_ Harry nodded shyly, before letting out an exclamation of surprise when she lifted him, propping him on her hip like a little child. He was pretty sure it shouldn’t have been possible... then he remembered that it was definitely a dream... and that anything could happen. _

_ The golden-haired woman made an elegant gesture with her hand, and Harry watched the landscape change around them with big eyes, fascinated. He saw Sephiroth take care of him, and stand between him and creatures dressed in tattered black cloaks, cutting them into pieces with Masamune like leaves in the wind, the frost flowing back at their death. He saw him interpose himself repeatedly between him and people who clearly wanted him harm, including  _ Voldemort _ himself. He shuddered seeing this, especially because he had found a physical body, and the fact that Sephiroth had literally  _ cut into pieces _ people wearing skull masks. Ron was next, a fireball in one hand and a long red sword in the other, fighting at his side and supporting him in trials he didn’t understand, but always by his side, loyal as only true friends knew how to be. Hermione, her gaze burning of passion, diving into books, offering the solution to riddles that bothered them, and wielding magic with skill to support them. Neville, to his great surprise, who helped them by offering them plants for their needs, or commanding them to neutralize their enemies, a huge sword on his back. The Weasley twins, laughing and joking and throwing pranks of their own creation to their enemies, humiliating them while hampering them to neutralize them. A man with long black hair, who looked a lot like Sephiroth, wearing a blood red cape, a headband of the same color holding his hair so they would not bother him, casting spells with his left hand, covered with a golden glove with fingers forming claws, his other hand wielding a multiple barrel gun. Nathan and Emma, welcoming him home as a member of the family, allowing him to rest. _

_ Throughout these visions, Harry had remained motionless, not daring to blink his eyes for fear of missing something. Finally, they stopped, and the boy looked timidly at the woman who was holding him. _

_ “Is it true?” He asked in a very small voice. “Is it gonna... really happen? The good things... and bad ones?” _

_ She smiled gently. _

_ “Of course, my treasured child. Perhaps they will not happen exactly as I just showed you, because the future is ever changing. However... once these events have passed... you will be entitled to your happiness. Never forget the past, because it is it who forges you, but always looks to the future, because after the rain comes the sun.” _

_ Harry nodded timidly, the distant chorus making him feel like singing for joy. There were more sad passages in the choir, but still, the joy ended up returning. The long-haired woman smiled tenderly at him, with a touch of sadness. _

_ “Your future contains darker darkness than most people... but your soul is too pure for them to last very long. Never forget one thing, my treasured child. Sephiroth will  _ always _ be at your side, like your friends. Believe in them and in yourself... and you'll be an unequaled force,” she said softly, before kissing him on the forehead, right on his scar. _

_ Harry blushed, surprised and embarrassed, barely paying attention to the gentle warmth that blossomed around the lightning mark he had worn on his forehead since Voldemort had attempted to kill him. It had sometimes been more or less painful, especially since Quirrellmort during their first year, but then it gave him the impression of falling asleep, and he felt a profound relief. _

_ His eyelids were heavy as the woman began to hum slowly, the words incomprehensible to him, but the deeper meaning of the song as clear as crystal for his soul. Resting his head against her shoulder, he let sleep take him, feeling safe again. He knew that Sephiroth would be there when he woke up, and that thought was enough to soothe him enough to slip back into a deep sleep. _

_ Minerva looked at him with a mixture of tenderness and sadness. She had so little opportunity to express her maternal side... Most often, it was the warrior side that was needed. She raised her head, feeling a presence. Her gaze rested on the souls of James and Lily Potter, who looked at the scene with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. Part of the... pact with Minerva to save Harry... was to give up any chance of getting in touch with him while he was alive. The sacrifice was immense, and sometimes Lily wondered if it wasn’t too much. But to see him so peaceful told her that it was worth it. And now that her baby was safe... she finally felt that she could join the flow of souls. James looked at Minerva, the Goddess whom his family had worshiped since time immemorial, and bowed deeply to her, without a word. Because no words could express his gratitude. Minerva had protected their baby from Voldemort, and now from Dumbledore. _

_ After their deaths... they could see how far away he was from the image they had made of him. And if the Nightmare was dangerous... he, at least, had taken care of Harry, and protected him, instead of sending him into the Nundu’s mouth. And for that... James considered that not being able to talk to Harry, even if he ever found the Resurrection Stone, was a meager price to pay. For there, at least... he was safe. _

_ The couple stepped back, re-entering the Lifestream, and Minerva stood alone again with Harry. She watched the sleeping boy, so small and thin, and felt her heart squeeze. She stretched her free hand in front of her, calling on Magic itself. The millions of filaments making up the latter materialized before her, and she moved them until she found what she was looking for. An avenging smile appeared on her lips. Dumbledore might have been powerful for a human. But in front of her... he was little more than an ant facing a blue whale. So insignificant that he wasn’t even worthy of its attention. _

oOo

In a room in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, pale green filaments emerged from the ground, the bright spots of light around them dancing like fireflies. The filaments waved gently for a few seconds, before moving towards the rolls of scrolls on the shelves. The Wizarding World Archives has been in this room for nearly a millennium, but the purpose of the filaments was a very specific section, concerning Magical Guardians. They touched the scrolls one after another, seeming to look for something, before stopping on a precise roll. The latter left the shelf by itself, floating in the air as if someone held it in their hands, and unfolded, as of its own free will. Most of the information noted on the paper was apparently not of great interest to the filaments... until they came to the name of Harry Potter. A dash of ink appeared on Albus Dumbledore's name, scratching it almost furiously. As if someone had grabbed a quill and angrily crossed his name, before starting to write next to it, leaving the name Sephiroth Valentine in place, tracing the letters with an elegant hand.

As if satisfied, the scroll rolled up again and returned to its shelf, the light filaments withdrawing... just as an Unspeakable entered the room before freezing at the sight. He swore copiously at seeing that, ignoring his colleague, who had followed him, and leaning against the doorway, panting. Croaker cautiously entered the room, wand in hand, scanning the scrolls. Bode looked at him carefully, testing the Wards on his side. Eventually, Croaker grabbed a parchment scroll, a sense of dread filling his whole being. Slowly, he unrolled it, looking for what could have been  _ changed _ by the very Leylines of the Planet.

The Unspeakables were practically the only ones at this time and age to have even a vague idea that the planet had its own consciousness. The Department of Mystery was also the only place where you could find Materias, the crystalline spheres used in the past to do magic. Only a minority of their members were aware of their existence, and few chose to take the extremely restrictive oaths that allowed access to these famous crystalline orbs. Other objects dating from the same period accompanied them, and unless they took the famous oaths, it was impossible to even know of their existence.

Bode found no alterations on the Wards of the room, and made a surprise jump when Croaker began to swear like a sailor, warrior, and other professions known for their rudeness. He looked at him worriedly, especially when Dumbledore's name was added to the profanities.

“What's the matter?” He asked carefully.

He stepped back uneasily as he saw his supervisor turn angrily towards him.

“What's the matter? Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore has found a way to piss off the  _ very Planet _ ,  _ that's _ the matter!” Exclaimed Croaker furiously, waving the scroll. “This  _ moron _ has just been removed from the title of Harry Potter's  _ Magical Guardian _ , no matter how he managed to become so in the first part, for the benefit of a total unknown, but who, if I rely on rumors from Hogwarts, would be the fucking Nightmare in person!”

Bode looked at him with horror. He had heard the same rumors, but had given them little faith. After all, the Nightmare was known for its dangerousness, so to see him entrusted with the custody of the Savior of the Wizarding World (even if he seriously doubted the veracity of this title) in place of Dumbledore... he was struggling to believe it. However... a glance at the parchment showed him black on white that Croaker was right. A few detection spells on the scroll later, he couldn’t help but shudder. In addition to the magic of the Leylines, so powerful that it gave him the impression of being an ant facing a whale... there was a feeling of righteous anger on the parchment. Whatever the Hogwarts Director decide to do... he wouldn’t find any help from the Unspeakables side. None of them were  _ stupid _ enough to oppose the Planet herself. Dumbledore was fucked... he just didn’t know it yet.

oOo

Sephiroth had been unable to go back to sleep after Minerva's visit, and had given up around 3 am. With a sigh, he got up, careful not to wake Harry, and went into the kitchen to make tea. He took a mental note to find a way to get a typical Japanese tea set... since it was the one closest to Wutai at this point. He was at his third teapot when Emma entered the kitchen, freezing in surprise when she saw him, blinking.

“Sephiroth? What are you doing up at this hour?” She asked, surprised, looking at the time.

The silverette snorted sarcastically in response.

“Oh, almost nothing, Emma,” he couldn’t help but respond sarcastically. “I  _ just _ had a little divine intervention in my sleep. I  _ hate _ meddlesome old goats that poke their noses everywhere,” he grumbled, emptying a new cup, “almost as much as Goddesses who give you orders!”

Emma blinked, surprised, looking at him without understanding. Sephiroth was almost always polite, according to Hermione, so seeing him this rude... was disturbing. He didn’t look angry at her, though, more towards Minerva it seemed. Having not taken her morning cup of coffee yet, Emma was still barely awake, but she was reluctant to approach the coffee maker, Sephiroth giving a disturbing impression. The latter finally raised his eyes, and sighed when he saw her.

“You can approach, Emma,” he said more gently. “I will not hurt you, I promise. It's just that... I'd like to have a Virtual Reality Room on hand. So I could spend my nerves on one of my favorite simulations.”

Emma nodded, cautiously approaching the coffee maker, relaxing as she saw that Sephiroth wasn’t trying to tear her head off. She poured herself a cup, asking for clarification with curiosity.

“A virtual reality room?” She questioned, puzzled. “So your technology was so advanced?”

Sephiroth nodded with a weary sigh, thinking back to those days with his friends.

“Of course Emma, I told you about it when we arrived Friday, remember.”

Emma frowned, before nodding, slightly embarrassed.

“You’re right,” she admitted, embarrassed. “And so, you had a lot of programs inside?”

Sephiroth had to think for several seconds before he could answer.

“Hundreds, I think. Genesis... especially appreciated those allowing him to char Behemoth, as you can imagine.”

Emma snorted with irony before taking her cup of coffee.

“He had to appreciate all those who would allow him to burn everything that came up, I guess. And you?”

Sephiroth chuckled softly, refilling his cup.

“Mine... was made by a programmer who couldn’t convince his son to eat vegetables. He had asked me in return to go to his home to do a little... scare to his son, so that he eats them. You must suspect my reaction.”

“A categorical  _ no _ , I guess," Emma said with some amusement. “But... why do you say he programmed this simulation in this case?”

Sephiroth laughs softly.

“Right on target. However, he gave me a CD-ROM with a video to watch on my computer, telling me that he could implement the full simulation in the hour if I accepted. It took me a week to have time to take a look at it... and the next morning I sent him a message saying that he had better be adding it on time to our usual Virtual Reality Room.”

Emma blinked in surprise when she heard that.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to say that,” she remarked with surprise. “What kind of simulation was it for you to accept so easily?”

Sephiroth snorted with amused irony.

“Honestly, Emma, me neither, until I saw the video. As I explained to you... Hojo tortured me during all my childhood. I must confess to having had many desires to murder him... but as I thought he was my father... I never had the will to kill him. If I had known... I wouldn’t have just been content to kill him in this simulation, but also in reality.”

“Sorry?” Emma asked with surprise. “You mean... that this simulation was to... slaughter Hojo?”

Sephiroth laughed softly at her shocked expression.

“Remember, Emma, that this is the same person who was taking his pleasure torturing human beings. Believe me, if I told you even a  _ hundredth _ of what he did to me, you would not sleep for weeks. To kill him in simulation... even if it wasn’t as satisfying as killing him in real life... at least allowed me to spent my nerves. And to be exact… they were Wutai fighters, whose appearance he had replaced with a Hojo skin. I must admit that after spending a few hours in the clutches of Hojo... to let off steam by killing him repeatedly was doing me good.”

Emma sighed, shaking her head.

“And you... launched it often?”

“In good times, once a week, minimum. It could go to once a day in bad,” admitted the silverette. “I guess... you have an idea why I want to run it, right now?”

Emma hesitated before nodding her head hesitantly.

“You spoke of the Goddess, and old goats who poke their noses everywhere. I guess... does that mean... that Minerva ordered you to let Harry go back to Hogwarts?”

Sephiroth nodded with a sigh.

“Exact. If it was up to me... I would have refused, and I would have taken Harry as far as possible... and your family as well, but…”

“But?” Emma asked gently.

She was surprised to see him put his hand over his eyes, his shoulders shaking slightly, as if he was restraining himself from crying. When he lowered his arm, his eyes were just... haunted by something, and for a few seconds she had a pretty good glimpse of just how much he was... broken, before he lifted his defenses again, and resumed his calm air. He looked at her sadly in response.

“Minerva... apparently had access to other versions of our Planet, and she was able to exchange information with them. According to her... if Harry hadn’t found me... the future would have been dark… but not as much as if I were taking him away from here,” he admitted reluctantly, surprising her.

“To what point?” She dared to ask with concern.

The ex-general let out a sigh before answering, his voice weary and tired.

“The Weasley family... had been almost completely slaughtered in this vision, Ginny being the only survivor... but it would have been better for her to have been killed with the rest of her family,” he explained with a mixture of grief and anger. “Hermione... was also horribly killed after being forced to see you being slaughtered in front of her. Neville... one of Harry's comrades... had been broken and reduced to the status of handyman. Luna... had suffered the same fate as Ginny. And so many others had suffered the same fate... those I hardly knew them or only crossed them in the halls of the school. I may have been a monster Emma, but at least I  _ never _ prolonged the suffering of those I killed. Never, even in the depths of my madness. I know pain way too much.”

Emma shivered as she heard these explanations. Said like that... she could understand that he could have agreed to let Harry go back to Hogwarts, even reluctantly. She stared at him for a long time, noticing the way he looked at his cup, as if it contained the secrets of the universe. Gently, she spoke again, drawing his attention.

“This is the only reason you accepted?”

Sephiroth hesitated, before shaking his head.

“Not exactly. That's one of the reasons, along with the one I told you the day before yesterday. We  _ don’t _ refuse the order of a Goddess. My last reason... to accept, was selfish enough, I have to admit it.”

“That is to say?” Emma asked, puzzled.

“Minerva... told me that if I agreed to let Harry go back to Hogwarts... I would be rewarded,” he admitted in a guilty tone. “Until then... despite Luna's words... Aerith... I wasn’t sure that my friends... and  _ she _ reincarnated. The Goddess confirmed that... and showed me that they were reincarnated. I could... see that their appearance was subtly different, which is apparently normal when someone reincarnates.”

Emma blinked in surprise at the guilt that was coming from him. She realized he didn’t want to be so selfish, when Harry had suffered so much. But the idea of finding those who mattered so much to him... and this woman, whom she was now almost certain that he had loved... was as important as protecting Harry. Talking about that…

“And Harry?” She asked with concern. “He isn’t risking anything?”

Sephiroth hesitated before answering.

“Minerva explained to me that... Dumbledore, I think, would have no rights over Harry anymore. I don’t know exactly what she meant by that, but I guess she is referring to the Magical Guardian status.”

“She would have deprived him of it?” Emma asked thoughtfully, going to make coffee again.

“That's my theory too,” Sephiroth confirmed. “Plus... as I told you, I don’t intend to leave Harry to the wolves. If they want to raise their hands on him… they will have to pass over my dead body first.”

Emma nodded as she heard that. It didn’t even surprise her. Sephiroth wasn’t one to break his word. She sat down, looking at him.

“I guess you will not want to try driving today?” She asked, not without humor.

Sephiroth couldn’t help chuckling hearing that.

“Honestly, Emma, in my state of mind, I'm afraid to get upset and tear off your shift gear. That would be kinda... difficult to explain, don’t you believe? In addition, magic and electronics don’t mix very well.”

Emma snorted.

“I seems to have understood that. Don’t worry, I think we'll have time to do that this summer. It can wait. In the meantime... you should go wake Harry, if he’s still asleep. I don’t know if he might panic when he wakes up, but…”

Sephiroth laughed softly.

“Yes, you’re right. Besides... maybe Nathan will take us to the forest? That would change my ideas, to me and Harry.”

Emma smiled at him.

“I can always convince him, Sephiroth.”

The latter nodded his head with amusement, before getting up, putting his cup in the sink. He then went up, poking his head in the room, and smiling softly as he saw that Harry was still sleeping, and that Hedwig was still faithfully keeping watch on the headboard. Gently, he went to wake the boy, who jumped opening his eyes, before calming down to see that it was only Sephiroth, who smiled gently, but with a touch of sadness.

“Hello Harry, sleep well?” He asked gently.

The boy nodded, rubbing his eyes with his good hand.

“Yes, but I had a nightmare,” he admitted, sounding ashamed.

Sephiroth paused, surprised. Since knowing him, it was the first time he had ever heard him admit to having a nightmare, even though he had sometimes heard him whimper and move in his sleep. Usually he was content to say that he had slept badly and refused to say more. Taking out clothes for the boy, he helped him to get up to get dressed, continuing to talk.

“There is nothing shameful about having a nightmare, you know, Harry. Even I sometimes do get them.”

Harry looked at him, surprised.

“Really?”

The silverette nodded, helping him take off his pajamas.

“Of course. To have a nightmare... means you survived, Harry. And that you refuse to let yourself be shattered by these events.”

Harry nodded slowly hesitantly, before asking innocently:

“Did you have a lady who offered you a hug to comfort you?”

There, Sephiroth's brain paused, not understanding what Harry meant.

“Sorry?” He asked in a tone expressing all his perplexity at this innocent question. “I'm not sure what you mean by that, Harry. Do you want to talk about this nightmare?”

The wild-haired boy hesitated for a moment, Sephiroth helping him get dressed, then launched himself courageously.

“In my nightmare... everyone I knew told me nasty things,” he explained softly. “Even you... you said... that you didn’t see why you would burden yourself with a burden like me,” he whispered, tears beading in his eyes.

Sephiroth felt his heart squeezed at seeing him like that, and took him gently in his arms.

“I would  _ never _ tell you that, Harry. You are still a child, so it is normal that you are not as strong as an adult. And you know that my own strength is far beyond normal, so it's useless to compare yourself to me. And I will never abandon you.”

Harry nodded, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“That's what the golden lady said too.”

Sephiroth blinked in surprise.

“The golden lady?” He repeated with astonishment.

“A tall lady with long golden hair,” explained the boy, “who had a kind of crown on her forehead. She was wearing a long white dress. We were in a large field of flowers... with a sky full of very bright green filaments.”

Sephiroth's brain stopped working completely by hearing that. What Harry was describing to him... looked like the plain where he had met Minerva. Which meant…

“Does she had a golden armor?” he asked.

Harry hesitated, tilting his head to the side.

“Maybe? She was far away when I saw her, and the armor disappeared in a cloud of fireflies when I saw her, like the fireflies of your crystal. She called me… " _ my treasured child _ ". And she said… that you would never leave me, and that you always kept your promises. She gave me a hug too,” he admitted, visibly embarrassed, “and kissed me on the forehead. She said… I think… that once the dark events were over… everything would be fine. And that you and my friends would always be by my side.”

Sephiroth blinked repeatedly, struggling to believe what he was hearing. Minerva… had appeared to Harry? And gave him a hug? He sighed softly, and looked at Harry with a slightly amused smile.

“You know Harry… if we find Genesis… he will most likely be jealous of us both. And maybe more of you.”

“Why?” Asked the child curiously.

“Because we both had the chance to being addressed by Minerva herself,” he explained gently, “and you were lucky that she took you in her arms. Genesis only saw her once… and she didn’t speak to him.”

Harry giggled softly.

“Are we special people then?” He asked hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if it was a good thing.

“For Minerva, in any case, yes,” said the former general with amusement. “Come on, it's time to get up. I'll open the window for Hedwig to go hunting, and we'll go down for breakfast.”

Harry nodded, and watched him open the shutters for Hedwig, who took off without hesitation, visibly trusting Sephiroth to protect him. The boy would have lied saying that the idea of returning to Hogwarts didn’t frighten him, but… even if he didn’t remember the whole dream, the fact that the Goddess herself appeared to him… reassured him. If she said that Sephiroth would never give him up… it was probably true, was it not?

_ To be continued… _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laugh*  
> Yes, Harry is special for Minerva, just like Sephiroth. The latter is not happy to let Harry go back to Hogwarts, but… we do not dispute the orders of a Goddess. And yes, Minerva herself deprived Dumbles of his rights on Harry.
> 
> (Dumble is doomed, you can’t really do shit if the planet herself is against you. *evil cackles*-Dragonqueen909)
> 
> Next Chapter, we cover the summer, and we will discover more about what is happening behind the scenes!
> 
> Since Harry will be returning to Hogwarts… I would like you to give me prank ideas to do to Umbridge. I plan to make her go slowly crazy in Harry's fifth year (at least, more than she already is), and cause Fudge downfall by cascade effect. I already planned her end, but I’d like ideas for the rest of the year :)

**Author's Note:**

> The Nightmare is back, and he's angry :) Dumbles and Voldy would do well to watch their backs, because it's going to start heating up!
> 
> Since my regular beta reader has been AWOL for months, Dragonqueen909, author of the prompt prompted me to write this story, which she serves me both as a beta-reader and a translator, as well as a wall to bounce my ideas ^^ -Fumseck_73


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